The Twenty-Five Days of Blakeney Christmas!
by Kisses on the Steps
Summary: 25 one-shots...25 days! One-shot updated every day! Drabbles, crack, romance/fluff, angst, and hurt/comfort! (k -t)As long as it has anything to do with Christmas and a Blakeney! Review or PM to give me prompts! Merry Christmas!
1. The One Ring to Save Them All

**Okay, I know it is going to be a huge project, but I really want to do this. These could be drabbles, maybe even short-stories or AUs as I'm doing this. So expect really anything to do with the Christmas season! Also taking suggestions and prompts...so review! (Like always!)  
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"Looks Like it's just you and me, now." The first year fidgeted on his bench seat in the empty main hall at the sound of a familiar boisterous laugh echoing through Harrow's empty halls.

"They're coming. I know they are. They sent me a letter and everything, " the boy voiced his belief strongly, but his teary, red eyes betrayed him.

"Who knows? They could be enjoying the holidays somewhere warm, like Cairo or Athens. Adults don't bring their children abroad." The older boy saw the kid wasn't taking his comments lightly.

"Except for _your_ father. I've heard that he took you everywhere-Germany, France-and all because of your insane-"

"Oh look," the 3rd year commented, "There's a carriage. I assume it's yours."

"Really?" The young boy jumped up from his seat, and ran with his packed clothes out the door with a small comment over his shoulder, "Maybe your parents will show up _someday_."

But the remaining young man could not hide the loud laugh when his tortured victim slammed the wooden doors back open a few seconds later and plopped down on his bench.

"That was quite boorish of you," his voice quaked while the other kept laughing.

"I'm sorry," the elder tried to compose himself, and failed, fits of uncontrollable, infectious laughter bursting. 'It was all meant in jolly, good fun."

"I don't see why everyone respects you so much," the high-pitched boy exclaimed.

"Why wouldn't they? Think a little, boy. What admirable qualities do I lack? I'm always-"

But he was interrupted by the opening of Harrow School's innately carved doors. In the entrance stood a tall, older-looking gentleman with light features and adorned in rich apparel. His eyes were dull and hardened as he sternly gazed at the young man boasting about himself, and said in a tired voice, "Percy."

"Sir Algernon," his son replied. For the first time, he remained solemn and indifferent, his eyes hooded and drowsy. "It's about time you took me away."

"I'm afraid only for the day. After that I'm taking you to Lord Foullkes for the rest of the holidays." Sir Algernon guided his son out the door with a hand on his back.

The winter had come full-on during the last few days of the 2nd term, snow flurrying around, making the world look like it was covered in sugar. That particular day was windy in the extreme, and Percy wished he had not left his extra scarf in his luggage. He tugged his cloak around him tighter and shivered, though the bitter cold still seemed to find a way to his skin.

London was only ten miles away, so they traveled there for an afternoon of sightseeing. When Algernon had the kindness to give him money to spend, Percy had the pleasure in spending it on his cravats and handkerchiefs, getting fitted for new clothes and boots to arrive at the beginning of the next term, or giving the rest to peddlers on the road. Algernon would always mumble and scowl when this happened, claiming it to be a waste of money.

Percy would hear it and smirk, only to give a pound away to another unsuspecting person. "Not everyone is as fortunate as you or I, Sir," Percy reasoned. "I met some boys at school who are just as sma-"

"Ah look, Percy. This is where Parliament meets. You could do well here." Percy stopped and stared, his build stiffening.

"I'd rather be a cricket player," he remarked with a laugh.

"You're joking." Algernon stared at him incredulously, "I thought you said you wanted to be a politician?"

"That was the last time I saw you-my first year here. I've changed my mind since then."

"But I think you would do well in Parliament."

"Why? It's not like you to assume things about me."

Algernon sighed and shook his head. "I guess I was wrong in my assumptions. Everyone changes their minds at times, especially someone as young as you."

"I'm not so young, sir, I'm one of the head monitors at Harrow."

"Well, I am mistaken again, my son, now how about we tour the-"

But Percy had already walked past the beautiful building, trying to avoid any more thoughts about his future in politics and pointed at a tavern. "How about we warm ourselves with some food and drinks, Pops?"

"Sure, if this is where you want to go," Algernon wearily glanced at the outside of the building, scrutinizing the people who entered with them.

"A table for two," Algernon ordered, "Warm brandy and..." he glanced at his son who spoke up.

"Make it two brandies, my good friend," Percy grinned, glancing at his father with question in his eyes. Algernon sighed and looked at the boy, finally nodding.

"Here you are, milord," the owner guided them near a window at a small table at the front of the coffee room.

As he walked past the father to the kitchens, Algernon whispered,"Water down that second brandy almost to nothing."

"Take our cloaks to the fire," Algernon ordered, and Percy nimbly carried the heavy fabrics to warm as they waited.

Percy lingered at the fireplace though, spreading his hands to bring some feeling into them. He glanced at Algernon from his peripheral vision, not wanting to have to be at that table with him until he had something to do in his hands.

Things had never been great with Algernon, and Percy hadn't seen him since his first day at Harrow a few years ago, but knew it had something to do with his deceased mother, Joan. Percy had only met her a few times, but the first...well it was something he would never forget. The look in her eyes was just...not right. Even _he_ knew that at his young age. She had died a few weeks after his tenth birthday, and Algernon had been even more distant in his mourning ever since. Percy remembered when he had actually talked to him every day, even though most conversations ended with a small smack to his face for being extremely disrespectful.

Algernon had always been a big man, strong, and all the Old Harrovians commented on how Percy would grow up to be just like him, but with this visit, Percy could tell that there was something wrong- he looked more withered and old, weak almost, and it wasn't fitting for a Blakeney.

He noticed the mugs making its way to his father and headed back to the table, settling down in his wooden chair. Algernon gripped his cup and prepared for the burn of the alcohol down his throat only to spew it out...right at his son's face. It was a natural reaction to the awful taste of the drink when he realized...that was meant to be Percy's drink.

His son wiped his eyes and hair desperately and shouted, "You demmed idiot! What was that?"

"I'm sorry. I ugh. I realized I shouldn't be drinking it until just now," he deluded.

"Convenient that you would just remember _now_." Percy sighed and forced a smile, sipping on his _fully_ alcoholic drink. Algernon watched him with jealousy, knowing he couldn't explain the real reason he had spit it out. Surprisingly, Percy didn't even grimace when he gulped, and he wished he had resorted to his son having grape juice or something. He wouldn't have messed those two up in a million years.

Algernon sighed and knew it would be the best time to tell him now. The news couldn't wait any longer. "Well, Percy. I know the money and shopping is commendable, but I actually have something to give you. Something much more important than cravats and clothes in tailor shops." Algernon leaned forward, onto his elbows and expected Percy to lose the stupid look of indifference and amusement, but he didn't. Instead, he slouched in his chair and sipped from his mug occasionally. His father tried to ignore his own annoyance and continued, "It's something that has been passed down for generations...ever since the very first Percy Blakeney-the one you are named after, my son. I may not be..." he paused struggling to admit it for the first time aloud, "_around_ much longer. You know I've been in Berlin for the past few years?"

"Yes, to be near Joan. I know. Her death makes you mourn."

"_Don't_," Algernon trembled, "don't talk about her that way. You may get to call me by my title, but she...she is _sacred_. _My_ wife-_your_ mother. And she was wonderful. Even after..." He shook his head, not about to be lost in his memories, during their courtship, the two years of blissful marriage before Percy was born. A few weeks after their child's birth, she had never been the same. Never recognized him again.

"And this...this is not about her. The doctor who treated her has been seeing me. Not for the same disease, of course, but for other health problems. he confirmed just before I left that I have less than a year."

Percy set his mug down and stared at his father. Algernon really knew nothing about his young, teenage son, and his mask was unreadable. He wondered if his son would be relieved or mournful, at least feel anything at all.

"That is..." Percy's eyebrows creased together as he thought and finally met his gaze, "purely regrettable. I really don't know what to say, or even how to react."

"And I don't expect you to, Percy. You're so young and I know that you don't love me. I've..."but Algernon could not go on any further. His pride kept him from speaking of his faults and regrets, and he had so many, he didn't have time to voice them aloud.

Percy, much to his father's pain, didn't object. It looks like he understood at least one thing about his son. He quietly said, "Should we go to the Foullkes' home now? I have lost my appetite for anything else."

"Of course. Go fetch our cloaks." And they continued on just like before, as if nothing had happened a few moments before. The carriage ride to the Foullkes' was completely silent, and when they pulled up, Sir Algernon walked with him up to the front entrance. Before Percy could knock, his father pulled him to a snug embrace, the first of its kind in years. He didn't know how to respond but wrap his arms around his aging father and try to recall one happy memory of them together.

"Don't ever think I ever hated you, son. Merry Christmas."

Percy opened his mouth and for the first time could not think of something that would make him laugh. "Merry Christmas...Sir Al-excuse me...Father."

"Here." Algernon smiled with the threat of tears, "I forgot to give you this in the tavern, Percy. It''s what we were talking about-our heritage. I want to give you this personally."

He looked down at Percy's boyish hand and took it, placing the object there. Percy's fingers curled around it, his fist turning white as he clutched it. "Goodbye, Father."

When Algernon sat back in his carriage he sighed and looked at the back of his hand. His wedding band was still there, but the signet ring was now gone, the only remembrance of the ring ever being there was the white mark of pale skin from years of wearing it. He looked out the window as Percy was beckoned into the London house by his friend, and caught the glimpse of flashing metal on Percy Blakeney's hand. He beamed, tapped the carriage ceiling and put his hand up when he saw his son wave goodbye. All too soon the image of him was lost as the door closed and the carriage traveled away.

**So don't expect every day to be like this, okay? I did NOT expect this story to turn out the way it did when I started it, and this is just to kick it off. Tomorrow is going to be a lot shorter, and humorous too!**


	2. Scarlettoe?

**Day 2 guys! "Two turtle doves..." This is a cute drabble with fluff and humor between Margot and Percy. Enjoy and review! Also, my other SP story will be on hiatus until this is over. Sorry, but not sorry...I don't know how I will deal with my other two developing stories at the moment!**

_"Percy!"_

Marguerite looked up at the ceiling with annoyed amusement. There was a plant hanging from the doorway of her bedroom, and she really didn't understand why it was even there.

"Margot?" She saw his figure come down the hallway to her, an uncontrolled smile planted on his face.

"What is the meaning of this?" She pointed at the plant above her. The look on her husband's face made her assume some type of mischief was going to ensue.

He smirked, "Well, traditionally, I think it is meant that I'm supposed to kiss you. I'm sure that is a custom in France too."

"Not with _scarlet pimpernel _flowers!" she cried and let him enclose her in a kiss.

"Are you complaining?"

"Yes!" The voice was not Marguerite's, nor Percy's. They looked down to see their little George staring at them in disgust.


	3. Lying in A Manger

**Day #3! I'm really enjoying myself here. Percy and Marguerite fluff is actually better than any other type of stuffing. There's so much of it, I could make the fluffiest pillow ever. This isn't fluff though. It's a rescue taking place around the first year of the Revolution, Percy's first Christmas as the Scarlet Pimpernel, and don't worry, his ingenuity isn't lacking. Review and make sure you guys send me Christmas ideas-I _may_ not have 25 one-shots rolling around in my head.  
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Baron Edouard de Augustin and his young wife, Anastasie had never intended their baby's first Christmas to be spent in a prison cell. They were only days away from an impending doom, only because Edouard's father had been one of the well-known entitled fiercely loyal to the old regime, fallen earlier in the autumn to the guillotine. Going into hiding had only delayed Edouard's little family from their fate for a few months more. The week before, their location had been betrayed, by a servant or spy, they didn't know, and Anastasie had been on the nigh to crying ever since they had ripped them from the their apartment in Paris, with nothing but a nightgown and dressing gown to warm her.

Edouard was in his nightclothes as well, but he knew the Baroness was still thin and weak from childbirth. She had nearly died going into labor with their precious Gabriel during the summer, who thankfully, was a quiet baby in regards to six-months old infants. He would swath both his wife and child in his thick arms, but it did no good. Anastasie's toes still turned blue in her slippers and Gabriel still called out pitifully because of the cold. If the guillotine did not end their lives, hypothermia would beat the "madame" to it first.

"Edouard," his wife's shivering voice mumbled.

"Darling?"

"What is that?" Her tinted blue hand pointed at a blanket at the door of their cell. Was he dreaming? _Dieu_, it had to be the cold, making him see things.

But Anastasie had seen it too.

"Do you see it too?" She looked up at him, her small face struggling to get the words out.

"Yes, Anna. Maybe a soldier dropped it out of pity for the babe."

"It doesn't matter who he is, I will plead for him at the judgment seat of God for his good works. Get it, I don't think I will be able to move."

Edouard shot a sorrowful glance at her and then crawled to the heavenly blessing, the cloth being warm wool. He quickly huddled next to his wife on the cot, covering both their heads with it. His wife sighed gratefully and tucked her frozen feet in between his legs. To keep her warm, he placed her fingers in his armpits and placed Gabriel in between them.

"Whatever you do, Anna, don't fall asleep. You won't wake up from it." She nodded and drew closer to him and gasped.

"There's a note, love, on Gabriel. It must have been in the blanket when it was delivered."

Edouard gasped when he saw it, and hungrily read it, hoping to find a rescue note. There had been rumors of some mysterious savior saving a dozen or so souls from the shadow of the guillotine, right when hope was lost.

But after reading it, he was disappointed. He looked at his wife's small face; she had surely heard of the rescuer as well. He shook his head and she only gave a small intake of breath before nodding in understanding.

"It was just a scripture from Luke, Anna. No hidden meaning behind it."

"Read it to me. I need to feel some type of comfort."

"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night, And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger."

"It ends there, Anna. But at the bottom is...I don't know what flower it is. It's red."

"Let me see," she took it from him with one hand, the other still tucked in between his torso and arm. She read through the note again, he could tell by the way her eyebrows knit together, she was scrutinizing every single detail having to do with the message.

"They underlined the 'Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger.' Maybe it means something!"

"Because it's talking about Christ. They were probably just trying to cheer us up on the nigh of our deaths with a message of Christ. Nothing can save us, Anna."

He regretted even voicing his thoughts aloud. She had probably been thinking it as well, but she never would have said it. She looked down and gazed at Gabriel, peacefully asleep, his mouth making involuntary sucking motions as his cheeks and chubby fingers grew pink from being in between his parents bodies.

"What will they do to him, love? I...I just can't imagine anyone just," she faltered as tears bubbled up in her brown eyes, "killing an infant, even if he is the son of a 'traitor'."

"Anna, we can't think like that. Ga-"

But he was interrupted with a hiss, "Baron?"

Anastasie threw the blanket off of their heads for them to see two soldiers at the door of their cell. "Please, come with us."

Edouard recognized a hint of an accent and realized...Anna might have been right. But she was clutching Gabriel protectively, out of fear that they might take him from her.

Then, the other soldier recited the scripture, "Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people."

His wife nearly cried out in joy, but Edouard clamped his hand over her mouth and walked with her to the soldiers where she clasped each of their hands and kissed their knuckles as a sign of gratitude.

"Baroness, I know it may be hard to ask this of you, but-"

"Anything, you are going to save us!"

"We must separate you from your child," he nodded at Gabriel. She faltered and squeezed the baby out of pure motherly affections.

"Why? He'll be quiet. He's a quiet baby."

"It is not our orders that we are following. We are only listening to the directions of our leader."

"But-"

_"Do you want to live?"_

"Yes, but Gabriel-"

"Will be fine. I promise on my own life that he will return to you."

She nodded, but could not hand him over. When the soldier took the baby out of her arms, she didn't protest. Edouard grabbed her by the shoulders and whispered as he tugged her along, "We must hurry, Anna. We only have a few minutes before the new rounds start." She nodded and could only see a glimpse of the other soldier running the opposite direction with Gabriel in his arms as he turned into a different corridor and was lost from her view.

Edouard could see the tears on her cheeks and tightened his hold on her, afraid she would collapse from blurred eyes or weakness. Finally, they were let out of the prison and into the bitter cold air. There was a cart pulled by a mule while more soldiers lounged around, waiting around for them.

"Edouard," Anastasie gripped his hand and stopped. "What if this a trap to get our baby. What if-"

"There is nothing left for us to do. This is our only chance to save him. If we go to our deaths now, we would have done it later."

"Baron? Are you coming?"

"Yes," he immediately replied, pushing his reluctant wife into the cart. As they drove through street after street, he felt Anna start to shiver uncontrollably. The mid afternoon seemed to drag into twilight quite slowly as the poor, lame mule staggered along the cobblestones. The soldiers at the sides walked quietly, as if they were actual revolutionaries, but Edouard knew better-the court was in the opposite direction. He just hoped no one else noticed that too. The moon and dim lampposts were the only lighting now, and as they drove, it was hard to even see the people they passed on level ground. The mule was guided by the man next to it to turn into a dark alley. A door opened into the building on the right, bringing in light and a warm hand to beckon them in.

"Baron de Augustin...and Baroness. It is a pleasure to greet you here," the man welcomed. He had a distinct English accent, Edouard noticed and on a table near the blazing fire was a supper laid out for them. He half-carried his wife to one of the chairs to sit, but she didn't touch the food.

As he slurped down his steaming, hearty soup, a soldier who had stayed behind was recounting the rescue in his native language. Anastasie still warmed herself before the fire, her hair drying out from the snowfall. "Anna. You need to get some food in you! We are going to be meeting with Gabriel soon. And I assume they will be taking us out of the city."

"Right you are, Baron," the host smiled. "We are going to take you to England with us."

"_England?"_

Where else would you go? Your family is...?"

Husband and wife glanced back at each other, the silence answering his question.

"Besides, it is safer to be in England."

"I don't care about safety," Anna interrupted,"I don't care where we're going. I just want to get Gabriel back. Where is he?"

"He's waiting for you, actually. We just have to get you there under disguise."

The man dressed as a soldier was waved upstairs, where he came down a few minutes later with plain cloths of blue, brown and white. "Here," he gave to Anna the white dress that really looked like a long shirt and a blue scarf he instructed to wear over her head. Edouard was given a dress just like his wife's, but it was brown with a red scarf. The host had also changed into something similar, but he had a shepherd's crook in one hand. Anastasie looked back at herself and gaped.

"We're...we're-"

"Going to a nativity display," he finished for her.

* * *

><p>Their host had given them boots to wear just before they went back outside. It was just beginning to darken, and Anna occasionally stumbled on cobblestones or on her husband's feet as they traveled in silence through Paris. They eventually came to a busy market square in the center of the city. What caught Anna's eyes was a nativity set, human size. There were already a few people there, dressed up as shepherds or wise-men and Edouard whispered to her, "Remember the scripture?"<p>

"And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger," she breathed, gazing at the hay-stuffed manger, where she saw one of the kings cooing at. She beamed and half-ran to the nativity display, her tears spilling at the sight of Gabriel. Multiple smiles across the square beamed at the wonderful acting of the Virgin Mary. For the rest of the night, the crowd occasionally lingered by to watch their display. The eyes generally followed the mother and her child, until they passed on to a different part of the market. To Anastasie, the night passed by without a worried thought about safety or of the cold. She was cheery and laughing with her husband and the others in the group.

There was one man, one of the kings, who was particularly rambunctious, and she noticed subtly that the men looked to him whenever a soldier passed by. He would wave to them and greet them with a kind word or two and the soldiers would walk on. The moon was a sliver as the last of the peddlers and hagglers packed up their things and left, cuing the nativity group to follow their lead.

"What a merry time," the man laughed, his blue eyes twinkling with happiness.

"Is it time to leave Paris?" Anna asked, cradling the now-asleep Gabriel in her arms. The man nodded beckoned her to start walking, and lifted the blanket, looking down at the babe with tenderness that surprised her. She wondered if he had a family out there somewhere, that he was missing because he was here, saving her own family.

'Thank you," she whispered. He pulled back from admiring the child and smiled with a boyish grin.

"My dear Baroness...Twas hardly a trial."

"It's only a few days before Christmas, sir. You should go home."

"How do you know I even have one?" He asked her, his eyebrow raised.

"You just...look like you have some nice little wife and children missing you."

"No children," he laughed, "just a wife," he was lost in though after that.

"She must miss you."

"No, she doesn't mind." his grin was now strained and she stopped badgering him with such questions.

* * *

><p>The guard analyzed their group with a bit of amusement as they walked up to the gates. They could not hide their smiles as the men with their crooks neared.<p>

"Do you reckon there's any aristos hidin' in those dresses of theirs, Bibot?" Some of the guards chuckled.

"Bah, I'd have smelled 'em out by now. They are just some religious group celebrating Christmas," Bibot exclaimed with confidence.

When the group of about a dozen pulled out their papers, he shook his head and waved them through, giving them a pardon. No traitorous aristos could humble themselves to wear something so comely and ragged. Them and all their jewels and riches.

Much to Bibot's disappointment, nothing else interesting came though the gates, which brought even greater disappointment as it meant no aristos. NO aristos in 24 hours! What was this life coming to!


	4. Percy Laughs

**Send me Christmas ideas for one-shots! I'm a genius (you will see after reading this chapter) but I still need your help. This song goes to the tune "Jingle Bells"**

**Percy Laughs**

Saving souls all night

in a thrilling, stormy chase,

through the city gates,

laughing all the way! (Hahahhehehoho)

Disguised with masks as fops,

they save the helpless souls.

What jo-oy comes through rescuing them from the guillotine! (Gad!)

**(Chorus)**

Percy Laughs, Percy Laughs

Percy saves the day!

Chambertin lost again

and the Pimp'nel got away! (Sink meh!)

**(repeat)**

A time or two ago

they thought they'd make him end

And soon the Pimpernel

had tricked them once again! (Hahahhehehhoho!)

The hag was lean and lank,

the guards were quite lousy

so they let him through the gates again and escaped from Pa-a-ris (Gad!)

**Chorus (repeat 2X)  
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Now the Republic,

is falling at the seams,

and Percy ca-a-n go

back home to Marguerite! (YAY!)

They'll have a kid or two,

become the biggest preps,

but secretly they are the best and then it starts again! (Gad!)

**(Chorus)**

**(2 repeat)** Percy laughs, Percy laughs,

Percy saves the day!

Chambertin lost again

and the Piiiiimmmppp'nnnnnnel Goooooooot AAAAWWAAAAAAAAAAAAY!


	5. The Snuffbox Gift

**Sorry it is so late, but I was pretty busy until now, and I've got family over, and I rewrote this so, don't judge me! Send me prompts! I'm starting to run out of ideas! I've got maybe a few days more, but help! **

Chauvelin was wheezing, gasping, and pretty sure he was dying too. He looked at the cursed object of his demise but found he couldn't see. How had he fallen into the Pimpernel's trap again!

_Earlier that night:_

Citizen Chauvelin was a sort of creepy guy. He could listen in on conversations without anyone knowing, and he didn't mind it. He was pretty proud of his gift of eavesdropping. Especially when it helped him with his job. Robespierre knew he was not a "family man" so he had him working a few leads through the holidays in a town a few miles from Paris.

He was quite excited to do some more eavesdropping when a knock on his door resounded through his rented room. He opened the door and found no one was there. He was about to close it, disappointed when he caught a glimpse of something on the floor.

It was a sign, _he_ was here.

And by _he_, it was the Scarlet Pimpernel, his arch nemesis, his afflictious antagonist, absolute adversary, extreme enemy, flippant foe, may he need go on?

The object left at his door was covered in his least favorite flower. It was little, red, star-shaped, pretty ugly in his opinion. But that wasn't the only reason.

They were all hand drawn onto a wrapping paper, and he could just see his revered rival, his decided disputant, his …he really need to stop doing that! He could see the Scarlet Pimpernel's inane smile on his face when he thought that he could outwit the great almighty, Citizen Chauvelin!

Derp! Like that could ever happen.

He almost reached down and picked up the wrapped "present" but shrieked and stopped. It could be booby-trapped, it could lead to his demise! But he was curious, and he couldn't let the box sit out there all night.

So he kicked it into his room and shut the door, worried that it would explode and hurt others in the building, of course, _if_ it was some type of explosive.

He carefully tore at the paper, taking pleasure in extensively ripping it apart.

He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them, finally being able to have the courage to lift open the lid.

Nothing happened and he sighed. But the contents of the box was quite controversial.

It was a snuffbox, he realized. It was filled with powder, and on the lid was an engraving, " To Scarlet Pimpernel's Favorite Chambertin"

That name….Chauvelin felt steam radiating from him as he sat, looking at that infamous name echo his incorrectly pronounced name. He investigated the snuff though. He didn't know if he could trust it.

It all came up to the analysis of his clever criminal, his voluminous vigilante…that didn't sound too good, did it?

It was simple! All he had to do was divide from what he knew of his…..he wasn't about to go there again.

Is the Scarlet Pimpernel the sort of man who would relive old jokes, or seriously feel sorry for what happened in the Fall?

Now, a clever man would send it to try and trick his enemy, rather than just for the Christmas season, but only a great fool would reach for what he was given! Chauvelin was NOT a great fool, so he could clearly not choose to snuff before him!

But the Pimpernel must have _known_ that Chauvelin was not a great fool-he would have counted on it, so it might not be spiked with pepper after all!

So he could _clearly_ not choose either options! Both were too tempting!

Out of the confusion of his mind he unconsciously reached and pinched the snuff onto his hand and breathed it in.

Was it contained of pepper, or just a friendly gesture?

It wasn't a friendly gesture.

_Present Time (er-not present time, as in present 2014. That was referring to the first sentence, yeesh, do I have to explain everything to you!)_

It was a while before he gained imperatives over his senses, but he found he could not stay in that room a moment longer. He felt like Sir Percy Blakeney was smiling in his own triumph somewhere in France, because he had scored a point with Chauvelin.

Even though he was a bit glum, he went to go and enjoy his favorite pastime, eavesdropping!

There was a boisterous laugh, its ringing contagious to others around, even making Chauvelin quirk up the corners of his mouth, he listened in on the conversation, knowing it wouldn't really produce the results he was looking for, but still curious.

"-saw him stumble outside through the outside door and I wondered what for-"

"Drank too much probably. You were never one to hold down your liquor!" It was followed by loud laughter with a retort from the defender.

"You're one to talk about vices, Druard! Remember that time at Bumbell's Blether Bar-"

"Oh right! He passed out because he got some bad snuff!"

"It was not bad snuff! I get it from good sources!"

"Then that snuff was _way_ too good."

"Enough about SNUFF!" Chauvelin jumped out his seat with little control over his actions. Everyone stared at him with some type of amusement and confusion.

"STOP WITH THE SNUFF OR I WILL THROW YOU IN PRISON AND GUILLOTINE YOU MYSELF!"

There was a murmur he caught in his ear before he could sit down and calm down.

"He must not have bought good snuff."

**Vizzini Approves this message.**


	6. The Question of a Man in Red

**Okay, this is one of my favorite one-shots at the moment! Thanks for all of the reviews guys! You get me so excited!**

"Your brother told you _what_?"

The little girl sniffled and hugged his leg, her head only slightly above her father's knee.

"He told me that he isn't real. It isn't just a bunch of stories to amuse us, is it?

"My little child, he is real. And wherever he is right now, whatever he is doing, he's changed lives."

"So why doesn't George believe in him?" Her father effortlessly swiped her into his arms and walked her to her bedroom.

"Don't listen to a word your brother says. He doesn't know anything."

"So that means I know everything?"

The father laughed out loud and patted her blonde head. Her hair was starting to darken, unlike George's eternal curly white locks.

"No, your mother is the one who knows everything. Your Papa learned that a long time ago."

"Learned what?"

"That your humble servant doesn't really know all that much. You are more clever now than I ever will be. I cannot begin to imagine the conversations and discussions that will occur when you're older."

The little girl grinned as he tucked her in bed, and settled against the large pillow. Her father knelt on the ground next to her. "I'm glad he is real."

"Me too."

He's so nice."

He hummed in response and kissed her forehead, making the motions to stand up.

"Did you ever see him?"

He paused, his blue eyes flashing to something brighter and mischievous.

"Once."

"What was he like!" She sat back up with excitement, her blanket falling to her waist.

"It was only a small glimpse, and he looked pretty busy, so I didn't bother him."

Her mouth pouted for a second before exclaiming, "Was he in red?"

"Sure," he laughed, shaking his head, "Yes, he was dressed in red."

"Did he climb down a chimney?"

There was more chuckling from him as he wondered if he could answer with a straight face.

"I guess he can do that."

"How did he fit?"

"It's his magic. No one knows." Her bright blue eyes lit with excitement from the mention of magic. Enchantments were her favorite topic. He would hear George complaining that he wanted to play war, and she would counter it with a war of magicians.

"That's how he does it..." she trailed off, and Percy could see her brain working as she contemplated all the different ways.

"Hon,I think it is time for you to put away these thoughts for he day and sleep. Mama won't be happy if she hears that you stayed up so late because of me. We have such a big day tomorrow."

"Is it Christmas?"

"Almost. Now sleep, darling," he whispered and kissed her cheek. She protested with a groan but didn't cry when he shut the door.

"Who would know you'd be such a rule-breaking Papa?"

The father turned to see his wife, who wore a small smile.

"She was crying!' he exclaimed with exasperation, "You know I can't stand to see a pretty little woman cry."

His wife softened for a moment, thinking back to a moment of desperation when she had cried for his help, making him panic and beg for her to stop her tears. She looked outside and saw the snow starting to fall on the terrace steps which led into the grounds and eventually into the cold river.

"What did Georgie do?"

Her husband put a hand on her waist and walked with her to their son's room, who had fallen asleep amongst his toys on the floor. His father gently picked up the boy and carried him like a babe to his bed. He stirred for a few moments looking up at his parents and mumbling goodnight to them. His mother blew out the few candles and shut the door, sighing and leaning against it.

"He told her that her favorite hero wasn't real," he answered, looking to the door with a small frown.

"And who was that hero?"

"Apparently," he grinned, "he's someone who dresses in red and climbs down chimneys."

"Father Christmas?"

"Gad! 'Tis false, " he laughed heartily, "Twas the secret enigma, the Scarlet Pimpernel, she was worried about."


	7. Sacrifice

**So again, this is a one-shot that didn't start the way I finished. I could barely dare go farther with the end. I intended it to be more parent fluff, but I felt it wasn't finished so I put some Percy/Margot fluff. Hope you guys enjoy! Remember to review, and if you have any plot-lines that you want me to write for these one-shots, please, tell me and I will do my best. I am SO happy wihthe amount of reviewws and views I have gotten over the past week. You guys are awesome and my favorite fandom!  
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Percy Blakeney had just put on his dressing robes and found that his beloved wife was absent from their suite. An idea popped into his head as the most likely option.

The hallway was dark once he closed their bedroom door. The moon was hidden from clouds heavy with oncoming snow, but he was able to read the clock from the candle in his hand, nearing eight o'clock. He turned the corner, and saw a peep of light coming from one of the doors, and grinned, knowing that he was correct. Percy tread softly in his silk slippers, creeping to the door. Inside he could hear Marguerite talking, with much enthusiasm, he might add.

There were exclamations from little George and Violet from inside their cribs. He smiled, imagining their amused little faces, Violet's chubby hands clapping and George jumping on the bed in excitement. He wondered what exactly Margot was doing in there and peeked through the door.

The nursery was situated in a way that the two bassinets were facing each other vertically and there were two different sections of playing areas, one by the door an another on the other side, by the window. He could see the skirt of his wife's nightgown from where she paced.

"And the dragon said, 'My tasty knight! You look so fat and juicy that I hope to make you my dinner!" Margot continued in an extravagant, melodramatic tone that he was not really used to hearing. But the children loved it. He could hear Violet squealing in delight, probably as her mother came quite close and scared them or made them laugh.

"But the brave knight would not allow himself to be eaten. The dragon had such nasty breath from the number of knights he had already eaten. He could not let his beautiful princess down!" There was a pause as she moved, maybe standing, and she came within sight of his crack in the door. She held a rag doll of Violet's in her hand and swept it back and forth like a sword, yelling, "Huzzah!" and "Down, you smelly beast!" In a final swipe, Marguerite collapsed on the ground and sighed.

"And there the knight destroyed the dragon, who had been keeping the poor princess in his lair to lure fat and juicy knights into his jaws! The kingdom and the princess were saved!" Marguerite's voice started to get lower and longer as she finished the story, adding to the dramatic flair, "So the _brav_e knight and his _beautiful_ princess _rode_ into the _sunset_-"

She was cut off by a boyish cry and sighed, deadpanning the rest of the story, "and lived happily ever after."

Percy watched her walk to George's crib and tuck him in better and give him a rattling toy. She crouched next to Violet's crib and played with her fingers between the bars, kissing them, and whispering something French.

Percy smiled at his wife's tenderness and backed up, knowing how odd it would be for them if she was to catch him watching her tell a little story to the kids. As he traveled back to their rooms, he remembered the first time he had seen her. She had been onstage, performing some play he had forgotten the name to years ago.

The way her musical voice pronounced each word had fascinated him as he had fallen hopelessly in love with her. He climbed into bed at the same moment she opened the door.

"You're going to sleep so soon?" She asked, making him realize they would have perhaps another few hours before they really needed to get to bed.

"Ugh...no" Percy smiled and kicked back the covers. He stood back up and walked to her, where she was in the middle of writing something.

"What are you doing?"

"Writing our Christmas letter to Andrew, and Tony and Armand, and," she stuttered as Percy placed his hands on her shoulders, and began to rub them, "Basically all the League members."

"What are you writing to them about?"

"Just updating them on our family. Yvonne said her first word last month, and George just recovered from smallpox last month. I'm hosting a small Christmas party they are all invited to-"

"And what about me?" Percy smiled inanely.

Marguerite smirked and angled her head humorously, pretending to say out loud what she was writing. "And my husband, Sir Percy Blakeney, is _still_ the most pompous fop in England."

"Perfect," he laughed loudly. He knew how much it bothered his wife when he acted that way, but it was irresistible.

"But seriously, what should I write for you?"

Percy paused in his rubbing of her shoulders. "I really don't know. There has not been anything that would interest my friends."

"You are going on a hunting trip soon, aren't you?"

Percy sighed in frustration, "I don't want to tell them that. They will all offer to come along and try to relive the old days. I just want to go with Frank and get away." Marguerite shifted in her seat to look at him, concern in her eyes.

"Are you alright, Percy?"

"You know what is bothering me. And I feel terrible about it. How can I say that I miss those years...of being young and careless?"

"Percy-"

"And I shouldn't feel that way. I have you...and Violet and George, and I don't think I have ever been truly happier." Marguerite stood put her hand on his cheek.

"I understand, love. And I know you love our family."

"Do you really understand?" Percy choked.

"Yes. We have both given up something we love." Marguerite stroked his cheek, exploring the statuesque quality of his features. He was chiseled perfectly. "When you proposed, I could have rejected, just because of my profession. In some ways I miss it; I had a life in Paris. An enjoyable one, where I did what I loved to do. I was a successful actress that everyone loved and praised and admired, and I gave it all up to marry you."

Percy searched her face and finally leaned in to kiss her. "And I'm so glad you did," her eyes twinkled in response as his hands became lost in her hair. He could not help but add, "even though it makes you resort to using your talent for bedtime stories." She giggled as their breath mingled together and they drew closer together, inch by inch. It was maddening to him as they both waited for something. That something was unknown to both of them.

"And," she whispered, practically against his lips, "I'm glad that you gave up those exciting escapades that you still love so much for a family that you cannot leave again."

Percy sighed incredulously and clutched her head as he kissed her, relief spreading through him. Relief that she could feel the same way he did, that she understood.

He felt dizzy when they parted, as if they had been twirling in circles. Margot gripped his shoulders tightly in response, and he wondered if she was about to fall. He guided her back to her seat and knelt in front of her.

"You should finish those letters," he mumbled and kissed her brow.

_"Je te aime" _She gazed up at him with adoration.

_"Vous êtes mon véritable amour," _he answered back and slowly kissed her again.


	8. The Two-Faced Doll

**So this is going to be a "Part One" type of thing, seeing that I'm going to be doing this as Act I of the Nutcracker. We are doing this in my high school band and my baby sister is in love with the dancers and music, so I somehow am going to incorporate this with Scarlet Pimpernel, especially with inspiration from the first chapter of "The Elusive Pimpernel" when Orczy described a toy set of the guillotine. Enjoy and review!**

Part 1: The St. Just Home

Little Marguerite St. Just grinned, watching and waiting. Her shoes, the nicest ones she had were at the foot of their fireplace. _Pere Noel_ would come, very soon, she was told. The _la Messe de Minuit_ was going to start soon, and when they got back to the house, _Pere Noel_ would have come and given them presents. Armand was too slow, she thought, as they padded across the cobblestones of the snowy street. _Maman_ was holding his hand and trying to lead him, but he kept writhing his little fingers from her grasp and ran a different direction.

"Can't we go without him?" she complained and followed after her father, who was just as eager to get to the church as fast as possible.

Her father ignored her complaint and instead tugged on her arm, "If we don't get there fast enough, _Maman_ won't ever get the idea that we have to be there on time."

Marguerite grinned and held onto his scratchy hand. She was glad he had gotten the day off from working. Usually she didn't see him so often, but she knew she got along better with him than _Maman. _

The cathedral was full of people sitting in the pews, and the priest greeted them at the door. "Monsieur St. Just. Welcome tonight, _Joyeux Noël. _I actually have something for little Marguerite there. The old man bent and handed the girl a doll. She looked back at him with glistening eyes and hugged it to herself.

"She is very thankful," Papa informed him, since she had yet to show her gratitude.

'Yes, thank you," she beamed and looked back at the doll. She would normally require one to be made of glass for it to be perfect, but somehow the crafter of the wooden doll was very talented. The doll was a handsome man dressed in very nice clothes, clothes she could see an _aristo_ wearing. She had always thought that those clothes made them look more fat and ugly, but this doll was blonde, blue-eyed and beautiful. The weird clothes made him look even better. She was entranced as she sat down, gazing at every detail with precision.

The blue eyes were piercing blue, animated, and he looked like was smiling about something she couldn't possibly know about. The midnight service passed by quickly, hymns passed and she did not register that she was supposed to open her mouth and sing them. She could feel the stares of Papa, but every time she looked up, she saw him grinning at her.

"Margot," Maman nudged her. She looked up and saw everyone shuffling out of the church, and let her papa lead her out of the throng of people.

And soon Marguerite was the one Maman had to tug because she was not fast enough, but she couldn't help it. The doll was so exquisitely carved and painted that he deserved to just be looked for hours on end.

When Maman and Papa opened the door to their little house, exclaiming that _Pere Noel_ had come, both she and Armand ran to the fireplace where their shoes were stuffed with goodies and presents. Marguerite searched through one of her shoes, full of nuts, fruit, sweet candy and even a coin or two! The other, much to her delight, was full of cloth. Doll clothes!

"How did _Pere Noel_ know I was going to get a doll?" Marguerite exclaimed, and then frowned as she unfolded the clothes; they were full of blouses, skirts and dresses!

"We're sorry Margot," Papa bent next to her as Maman helped Armand understand what was in his shoe. He had some type of contraption with a tiny knife that sliced toy fruit in half. There were little lead soldiers surrounding it, as if to make sure it went okay. "Maybe _Pere Noel_ expected that you were going to be given a girl doll that you could dress up."

"That's okay," she brightened, "Percy is a special doll. He can be disguised as a woman and save the day!"

"His name is Percy? Where did you come up with that?"

"I don't know," she said absentmindedly, and started to put the petticoats over Percy's breeches, making him somehow surpass as a woman doll.

"So pre-y," Armand slurred, not yet able to pronounce his 't's properly.

"Yes, and it is mine," she hugged Percy to herself with motherly protection.

Armand pouted and lunged for his sister, tugging at the doll. She screamed with anger and kicked at him while he clawed at the doll.

As both parents tried to pull the children away from each other, the doll flew out of both the children's hands and hit the fire. Marguerite screamed in fright and almost jumped into it herself, but Papa held her back as she cried and told her to wait. He flinched as he reached into the fire himself and flung the wooden doll back onto the floor.

"Percy!" She reached for it again, but Maman held her back until it cooled. Only then could she see the damage of her beloved doll. The fabric dress she had gotten him had received the brunt of the damage, but his face hadn't been covered, and the half the paint on his face had burnt off. She hugged it again and cried-the poor doll hadn't done anything wrong, and because of her pesky little brother, Percy had almost been destroyed!

"Don't worry, Margot," Maman tried cradling her, but she scrambled away. "Margot…listen to me. I can fix it. Remember, I am a painter? I can paint his face back on. I know it won't be the same, but we can only try."

"I'm not letting Percy out of my arms for a single moment. He is still beautiful with half a face."

Marguerite kissed the burned side to make it feel better and carried him to bed with her. She wrapped a handkerchief around the bad side of his face and cradled him to her, suddenly feeling very sleepy. She knew it was only when Pere Noel came that she could stay up so late.

"Is it time to go to bed, Margot?" Maman asked, kissing her forehead.

"Yes, Percy is very tired," she mumbled as she was helped into bed. After situating Percy in her arms, she fell fast asleep.

As soon as sleep had come, it seemed she had woken to a surreal dream of feeling oddly miniature. She padded to he edge of her bed, finding that everything had either grown ten times larger, or she, ten times smaller-it was impossible to tell.

Marguerite could see everything near the floor, the shoes still stuffed with sweets, the fire puttering out, Armand's dolls marching.

_Wait!_

The lead soldiers were marching! She gazed in awe at them as they surrounded the blade of their sharp knife and executed a few more rounds of fruits and vegetables. Eventually, they grew bored of it and continued onward, searching for anything they could chop in half.

"Bloodthirsty creatures, aren't they?"

Marguerite screamed and fell forwards...onto the floor, and conveniently right in front of a searching soldier.

His eyes widened in response and excitement as he clapped his hands together.

"This will do!" He dragged her across the floor, and when she looked up, there was no sign of the thing that had surprised her.

She struggled and called out for help as the chopping machine grew nearer and nearer. The other soldiers gathered around with excitement and the one manning it sliced more fervently and fast as ever. She gulped as they pushed her head to the other side of the cutting board. They were going to chop off her head!

She saw the man yank on the string attached to the blade and closed her eyes, dreading the thought of her head being separated from her body.

And suddenly, there were shouts and cries as soldiers flew onto their backs, a hidden force colliding and knocking them to the ground.

"Relinquish your desires for innocent blood!" Marguerite gaped; it was Percy, her doll! Half of his face was covered in her handkerchief still, but he was as dashing as ever as he saved her life.

"Let this fair maiden go. You have no quarrel with her! I am the one you want."

Marguerite was suddenly released from the jaws of death and thrown a while away as fighting ensued. She peered in search for her hero but could not see him in the midst of a huge pile of soldiers trying to take him down. He fought back so bravely and loyally, that she was heartbroken to see the crowd move away from him, who was tied up and gagged.

A toy Marguerite had not seen before walked in front of Percy and spoke to him with a smirk. His eyes were beady and black, and she eventually remembered him being some lost toy of hers from years ago that she had never really looked for. she had named him Chauvelin, and had hated him since. He was threatening her poor dear Percy, who was trussed up like a bird!

The battalion of toys lifted her beloved doll onto the slicer, intending to take off his head instead. Marguerite gasped in fright and followed her most native instinct-she threw her slipper at the executioner. IT gave Percy enough time o jump up from his bands and run to her. She started before he could get to her, knowing that she was a very slow runner.

Percy was heaving, his tied handkerchief fluttering as it threatened to come off. "Mademoiselle," he spoke firmly, "We must escape this death trap! Follow me!" and at that, her doll opened a swirly thing of strange colors and stepped though it. Marguerite shrugged, she had seen crazier things happen in her dreams before, and stepped though it, standing in a strange new land.

_To be continued..._


	9. The Land of Sweets

**Sorry I didn't update yesterday, but I had to prioritize my time last night and asked myself if I wanted any sleep. That answer was yes so I am updating now. I'll update again today. And guys, remember this is a dream, so anything could happen;D  
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Part 2

Marguerite opened her eyes and felt strangely different; she seemed to have grown bigger, and looking down at herself, she saw she was curvy! And Percy stood before her…human

He wasn't made of wood anymore!

And somehow, he had grown even more beautiful with that change. There was only a slight red mark around his face, bearing his past injuries, and he looked at her with as much awe as she, and bowed low, gently taking her hand and kissing it.

"Mademoiselle, you have….grown," he seemed to be at a loss for words, and she wished for him to speak on-his voice was much like her imagination had crafted it; slow and good-humored.

"I don't know how, though," she answered and looked at her dress-it had grown with her, but now, she could see how….bad she really looked. Her dress was dirty and thin, and when she looked at Percy's lace and silk, she felt incredibly small again.

"That is alright. It makes conversing with you much more appealing," Marguerite blushed and looked to the ground.

"Umm….What happened back there? Am I dreaming? And why were you…..and my old toy, Chauvelin, all alive? How could that happen?"

"I don't know the answers to really any of those questions, except what_ I_ do know myself. I know Chambert-er excuse me," he grinned gaily, "Chauvelin has been my enemy for a long time."

"Why was he going to chop off my head?"

"Chom-Chauvelin, I mean, just likes to do it. As I said before, they are bloodthirsty little fellows."

Marguerite shivered in revulsion and drew nearer to her doll. He just smiled and they both remained awkwardly silent.

"Do you know where we are now?" she finally questioned. It was colder, wherever they were, and the sun was covered in heavy, gray clouds that spilled dancing snowflakes all around them.

"England. My homeland"

"You were made in England!" she exclaimed, excited that she owed something foreign.

"Yes I was born here," he corrected, "and I'm just waiting-"

He was cut off by a bejeweled carriage pulled by beautiful horses. From somewhere inside, she heard the loud voice of the traveler, "Blakeney, my jolly good fellow! You arrive just after the party started. Fashionably late, as usual." The man stepped onto the foldable carriage steps. If she thought Percy was dressed to impress, she didn't even know how describe him. He was covered in rubies and diamonds so that she could barely see the creamy white satin underneath.

"You're Highness," Percy bowed even lower than before and with his eyes, beckoned for to curtsy.

"Who is this lovely creature?" The man eyed her up and down with interest. Percy cleared his throat uncomfortably and started to introduce her when he was cut off again.

"Your wife, am I correct? Oh yes, I remember hearing rumors of you in Paris while you were abroad. You got yourself a Frenchie wife!" He did a double take and frowned, "Might want to fix her up better next time…" Then, the royal kept rambling on and on, not letting either of them get a word in that by the time the glittering carriage rolled away, Margot and Percy were assumed to be married.

"Was that the king?"

"No," he laughed, "That is a dear old friend, the Prince."

"Are you going to take me to the party, then?"

"Only if you desire to, Mademoiselle."

"Don't you mean, _Madame_? I _am_ a married woman, Percy, I don't see how you of all people could forget that." His face broke into an even larger smile as he held out his arm for her to guide her up to the mansion that suddenly appeared. She shook her head, swearing she hadn't remembered seeing that earlier.

"What about my dress?" she stopped halfway up the stairs, remembering how much she resembled a scrounger from the streets.

"What about it?" He asked, and when she tried to explain, she looked down and saw herself in a dark blue dress made of soft silks and felt cold metal against her skin, realizing she was wearing a necklace made of jewels.

"You'll outshine everyone there," he reassured her. "You are exquisite."

She took his hand again and could not keep a smile from leaving her face as they entered through the large white front door.

Inside, the chandeliers and partygoers just radiated a brilliant, warm light. They danced, weaving through each other on the dance floor, and Marguerite wished she could climb somewhere high to watch all of them.

Percy smiled at her response and guided her to a table where she recognized the Prince. He was stuffing his face with all sorts of wine and meats and sweets.

"Ah, it's Lady Blakeney and Sir Percy. A fine couple with wonderful taste! Say, join me, my friends and partake in this feast!" He beckoned to the whole long table stuffed with food. Marguerite wasn't really sure where he plate even was.

Percy helped her sit down and handed her a silver plate from seemingly nowhere. She reached for a platter of fruit when he caught her hand and shook his head. "Wait. They will serve you."

"Who will?"

"The servants over there!" He pointed to a number of children bringing in baskets of foreign commodities.

"Chocolate from Spain," Percy hummed and gave her a small square block to try.

"Try this drink. It's from Arabia."

It was hot and bitter and tasted a little like hot cocoa…but not.

"Candy canes from Russia." He handed her a red and white stick, and she tasted mint. Marguerite remembered receiving such a treat when she was younger, but this was much more favorable.

'And Chinese tea. They make the best."

"I don't like tea," she apologized.

"That's alright," Percy smiled and handed her more chocolate.

"Entertainment!" The Prince exclaimed, rattling a scepter. Within seconds, little blonde children carrying shepherds' crooks gathered and started to play silver flutes.

"Where do they come from?" She whispered, hoping not to interrupt their performance.

"They're Danish. They dress quite odd there, I must confess." His slender hand gestured at their outfits. The girls had long, straight, flower-printed skirts, matching red sweaters, and headdresses. The boys wore very long shirts and vests with silver buttons. Perhaps their strangest oddity were their wooden shoes.

Then, the Prince shouted, "Bring Mother Ginger and the Polichinelles! They always make me laugh." Marguerite waited patiently for the next entertainer, enjoying just the atmosphere of the party. Percy was next to her talking to the Prince to keep him occupied. His voice became suddenly different and his laugh inane and irritating, but she stopped focusing on that once Mother Ginger walked in. Her skirt must have had huge hoops! And when she started to dance, a little child jumped out from underneath her skirt and dance with her. Marguerite gasped and leaned forward, while everyone else laughed at the absurdity.

What were they even doing in there? Everyone, including Percy, was laughing so hard, she could see tears streaming from their faces. She was actually quite relieved to see Mother Ginger and her Porticellis (or whatever they were called!) go.

The Prince was still chuckling to himself when he stood and announced the waltz. "I am dedicating this next waltz to my dearest friend and beauty counselor, Percy Blakeney, and his dazzling wife." Her 'husband' glanced at her sheepishly and she blushed, knowing that it was too late to deny their false marriage. "This is celebrating a happy event. Due to his wonderful loyalty, I am promoting Percy Blakeney to a_Sir_ Percy Blakeney!" Everyone clapped politely and Marguerite hung onto his arm as he stood next to the Prince.

"What is your family crest, Sir Percy," the Prince asked for the crowd to hear.

"The Scarlet Pimpernel, You're Highness." Percy looked as beautiful as when she had first seen him, and he looked so humbled to be given such a position.

"In honor of this special event," he boomed, a huge smile on his pink face, "this new song shall be known as the Waltz of the Scarlet Pimpernel Flowers!"

Percy forced a grin, and Marguerite felt a little bad for him. Who actually wanted a song with the title named after his crest when it was a flower?

Everyone clapped and beamed in response to the announcement as if that's what they_always_ did when he made an announcement. "Go," he whispered, eyeing Percy.

"Oh," he stumbled and nervously looked back at her. "Lady Blakeney, will you please honor me by taking my hand to waltz."

"Percy," she whispered, "I don't know how. I wasn't raised in a manor like you."

"I know," he stood and led her to the middle of the empty dance floor. "but you can do it. You can do it if you really want to."

"Right," she said, remembering the moment her dress appeared when she had walked up the steps. Crazy things happen all the time!

And that was why she was not surprised when Percy held her in his arms and stepped backward for the first step, she went fluid in his direction and went through each step perfectly, the whole waltz. He whispered the counting for her and stayed in the square box formation until she had understood the steps. Forward, together, left, together...and then he started to waltz in circles, and she stopped thinking, because thinking and trying understand made less sense than the way Percy looked at her.

She wanted to fly, or cry, or sing hallelujah. Or maybe do it all at once.

"Per-"

"Mar-"

They stopped in the midst of speaking each others names and laughed.

"Percy, I am pretty sure this is a dream, and I know you probably aren't real, but I should tell you here and now, that I loved you the moment I saw you."

"When I was your doll,or when you came here with me?"

"When you were put in my arms, Percy."

"Well," he smiled tenderly, "I guess this is probably the only time I can tell you, but Marguerite St. Just, I-"

And that was the moment she woke up. She sat up and numbly stared at the doll on her bed. It was wood, and there was her handkerchief around half of his face.

She looked down at her limbs and found they were small again. She felt as if she had lost something in her head, a knowledge...of what, she had no idea.

She felt heat behind her eyes and she wished she could have heard what Percy was going to say.

She looked around and realized her surroundings. The sun was up and she heard Maman making breakfast. Armand was sitting on the floor gnawing on something, and Papa was gone, maybe at work.

She tumbled out of the bed, keeping a strong hold on Percy. His inanimate face broke her heart, and she longed to touch it just once, to hold his soft, slender hands again.

"No-no. Awky Armand! Spit out!" Maman cried, tapping at Armand's chin. He finally opened his mouth and out fell her rag doll, Chauvelin.

"Chambertin!" she cried.

"This was yours, wasn't it Margot?"

"Yes, he's mine. I just lost him and couldn't find him."

Maman wiped off the spit on her apron and handed Chauvelin to her.

"Now Percy can have a friend, Margot."

"Oh, no" Marguerite mumbled. "They wouldn't get along at all."

**So there, I feel a little sad from the end of this, but they were separated in the ballet too. Did anyone recognize the Doctor Who reference? Review, follow and fav! Thank you guys SO much!**


	10. The Situation of a Bunny Named Armand

**So my schools firewall is down...and this is me staying in the band/chorus' computer lab...sort of skipping play practice...but whatevs! And I'm trying to catch up on my missing one-shot day! **

**This one-shot is modern with a little girl named Marguerite, a boy named Percy and a bunny named Armand? Review Please!**

In a corner behind the Christmas tree, Percy found the little girl crying. She had curly pig-tails and wore a plaid green and red dress on for the festivities their parents had put on that day.

"Hi. Why are you crying?"

"My bunny is gone. And I got him for Christmas...and I can't find him!' She burst into more tears and Percy could scarcely take it. He felt so helpless whenever he saw a girl cry, especially when she was as pretty as this girl. He didn't know what to say or do.

"Can I help, please?"

She looked up and her blue eyes looked wide and sparkly with the tears threatening to flow even more.

"You would do that? I'm Marguerite. What's your name?"

"Percy. And don't worry. We'll find you bunny. What's his name?"

"Armand. And he's black...so I can't find him in the dark. Oh I hope he doesn't get eaten!"

She looked like she was about to cry all over again, but he shushed her.

"Hey, it's okay. Armand will be okay."

"Alright. I'll show you his cage. You have to get your coat though."

"I'll be right back." Percy hopped into the coat closet and searched through the numerous coats for his red one. Finally, he found it next to Mum's and Dad's and wrapped himself in his black scarf and mittens. He slipped to the big front entrance of the house and met the little girl there, knowing that neither of his parents would want them going out in the dark by themselves.

She had a pink puffy coat with a white fleecy hat. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, let's find your bunny. TALLY-HO!"

"Hush," she giggled. "Mum and Dad will be so angry if they find out I lost Armand already!"

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

They walked silently to the side of the house where the bunny cage was set up. The door was on the ground, torn off its hinges. He gulped, knowing not just _anything_ could do that. Marguerite didn't realize...that bunny was probably digesting in a predator's stomach by now.

"Let me take a look around," he grinned at her. And as soon as he turned away, he grimaced and searched for anything that would give him the slightest hope.

And suddenly, he saw it-the tracks. Bunny tracks...the type he had learned from going on hunting trips with his dad. They weren't 'hunting' quite yet. Percy had just learned the basics of tracking himself.

"Marguerite, Armand went this way!"

She squealed and skipped to him. "You'll find Armand. I know you will!"

He shook his head and laughed nervously, hoping that the end of the tracks wouldn't lead them to a terrifying sight. Maybe they didn't want to find Armand.

But her prodding and hope made him feel even worse. What was he supposed to do?

They actually went for into the woods, turning on a flashlight that Marguerite had cleverly brought along. He heard a noise a few meters ahead and stopped her.

"Wait here. I think it might be up ahead. It could be nervous," he lied. If he couldn't save Armand, he could at least bother the animal that killed it.

It was quiet when he stepped among the bristles and thorns of a skeletal bush. He took another step.

And another. And something pulled on his leg, making him rip and fall. He gasped and checked his ankle. The tangled brush had sliced the skin open when he fell. And he had stepped into a hole. A foxhole.

That was what had preyed on Armand! "Are you safe, Percy?"

"Yes," he called back, scrambling to get up. He wished there was a way he could get it out of its hole!

An idea popped into his head, reminding him of a time when Dad had renovated their house. There had been some wire that had to be put back, and they had to stick it through numerous spots until it stuck Percy in the nose. If he had something long enough , he cold snag the fox and annoy it! He looked around him and set eyes on the thorns. He tore them out of the frozen ground and dragged multiple ones into the hole. He didn't have to push for long until he pushed against something that flinched when he drove the thorns into it. Something that disappeared when he put more force into it. Percy dropped the branches and sprinted to the spot where a wolf-shaped animal had sprinted from moments before.

He grinned and watched as it clambered through the deep snow into another recess of the forest.

"AAHH!" Percy panicked at Marguerite's scream, realizing that he had left her alone! She could get hurt or lost!

But when he came, heaving heavily, she was smiling down at something black and moving in her arms. Percy sighed with relief that she had been safe, AND found her bunny.

"Well, Percy, I would thank you. Bu it seems that I didn't need your help after all. Armand came straight back to me just now. But what on earth were you doing with those thorns?"


	11. Lady Luck's Ice Skates

**This is an answer to a challenge I got from ladysaskia a couple of chapters ago to write a hurt/comfort story with Percy getting injured/sick. Well...this is me accepting that challenge, and in my opinion, doing it rather well.**

"Don't go too far out!" Marguerite cried. Percy waved back to her with confidence. George smirked at her and followed after his father.

"Violet, I want you to stay right next to me," she sternly told the little girl. She nodded a little dazedly and held her hand. Now that George was getting ready to go away to school, he felt for some reason that dangerous escapades with Percy would be suddenly found

They had been enjoying getting away from the countless and seemingly never-ending visitors during Christmas to a family get-away in Denmark. Marguerite had more or less "sat out" because of her unnatural and unskilled abilities of ice-skating, but since Violet was a little reluctant in actually stepping on the ice, Percy and George had bounded onto the ice by themselves and had been going strong every since.

They were almost thirty feet away from her now, and she was beginning to feel uneasy. They had mostly stayed on the edges, but now, they were tracking on thinner ice of the middle of the lake.

"_Maman_, I'm cold." Violet tugged on her hand, and Marguerite tore away her gaze from Percy and George.

"Let's go inside the cabin, then? We'll get you some tea. Does that sound good?"

Violet smiled and nodded. They clomped unevenly through the snow on their skates and finally made it to the door of their rented cabin. They hadn't brought any servant with them, so Marguerite sat Violet down at the table where they tugged off the uncomfortable boots, and she warmed snow from outside in the kettle hanging in the fireplace.

"Did you have fun today?" Marguerite questioned as she prepared the packets of the tea.

"Yeah, I guess. I just wanted to explore."

"We can explore tomorrow then. Today was George's pick, but we'll do what you want next."

"George won't want to do that. He's too old," she complained. She turned to look at her daughter who was slouching glumly.

"Violet, sit straighter. You look like your father when you do tha-"

Something snagged her attention at that moment. A window across from the table overlooked the lake they were staying at, and at the moment, there was no one on the frozen lake. And there was a hole in the lake. She gasped and for a moment, she was frozen in place.

"What's wrong?"

"Stay right here, Violet," she ordered uneasily and quickly pulled out her normal boots and ran out the door. At the edge of the lake was George struggling to get off of the ice, to even move at all-he was soaking wet.

She ran and embraced him first before tugging him inside, asking him frantically, "Where is your father? What happened? Couldn't you listen to me for once?"

"_Maman_." He said urgently. "Father never came back up. He said he was going to try ad get his skates off after saving me and I didn't know what to do...and-I-I'm _so_ sorry."

"As long as you're safe. Just get next to the fire and change out of your wet clothes. Stoke up the fire and tell Violet to read a book in your bedroom. This will scare her."

"Go, Maman," he cried, tears running down his tainted blue cheeks.

The wind out in the middle of the lake was bitter cold. She could barely keep running against the wind biting at her cheeks, but she had to slow when she neared the edge of the hole. She knelt and waddled the rest of the way and waited, not knowing what exactly was down there. But who knew how long Percy could be in that cold water without dying?

Marguerite bit her lip and thought for a second what life would be like without him, knowing that it wouldn't be a life at all. She dunked her head through the water and searched for him, peering through the murky water. The bottom was too dark to see individual objects, but she eventually caught sight of him. She screamed his name but only heard it faintly as it distorted through the water.

Percy jerked and looked up at her, and started to swim up to her. She pulled her head out of water and felt as if there were glass shards hitting her head. Her ears went instantly numb but she stopped thinking about the cold. Percy was under there, struggling to get to her...she plunged her face into the cold water again, and he was only a few feet from her, thrashing and kicking, trying to get higher. But he started to move slower and Marguerite cried his name again, reaching her hand through the water, submerging half of herself into the freezing water.

She met him halfway and pulled him with all her might, he was dying, she could see that. His lungs were most likely hungering for air, and until she pulled him up again, he was one more second closer to death. In his panic, he wrapped his arms on her waist, and she felt the ice crack beneath her. She had to move, soon. Otherwise, she was going to fall in herself. Her fingers gripped his fur coat, but they seemed to have stopped working so fast.

With strength that she thought she had lost years ago after the revolution, she wrapped her arms under neath his armpits and tugged him onto the ice beside her.

"Percy!" she gasped, feeling like her fingers were frozen together.

His lips were blue, and his skin alarmingly pale. He was absolutely still.

"Percy," she urged and turned him on his stomach, hoping to get the water out. Eventually he sputtered and coughed feebly. "Oh!" she cried and trembled, feeling the uncontrolled shivering starting to take over her body.

"Percy. My love. We have to get outside. We'll die out here," she moaned, trying to shake him.

"Margot..." she heard him mumble.

"Oh, love! You have to help me, and once we get inside, I will help you. Can you move?"

He grunted in response and made a few motions. "Here," she said and helped to lift him up to his feet.

The cold started to affect her now that the adrenaline had pewtered out. She felt the brush of her hair on her cheek-her head was frozen, as was Percy's and his clothes were starting to harden around him too.

She grew nervous when she started to hear cracks in the ice and every so often, she would look back to see part of the ice they had just walked on break off from the large mass, so that hole got larger and larger.

She found that it was easier for step was to be taken one at a time, together. Percy was more or less surviving, but nothing more than that. She felt that each step brought him farther away from consciousness, towards sleep.

The kind of sleep that one did not wake up from. That not even Percy Blakeney with his Lady Luck could wake from.

"We're almost there," she said aloud, mostly for herself. And then, she felt strong hands helping looked up to see George, ready with a blanket and support.

"George. We have to get him inside."

"Yes and as soon as we get inside we have to strip him of his coat and clothes," George informed. "He'll heat up warmer that way."

"Okay. Go get blankets ready."

"Maman. You do that. You're shaking. You can barely stand yourself. Go and change into some warmer clothes." Marguerite paused, not wanting to leave Percy, but finally, after the way her clothes stuck o her, she needed to get out of the wind and snow.

The next few minutes were miserable. The heat in the cabin did little to help her physical state. But she changed out of all of her clothes and brought out her warmest wool dress she had brought along. She looked through one of Percy's trunks to see what he had brought, but it seemed to be full of lace and cravats. Marguerite shrugged and moved to the next one quickly, ripping through it to try and find his underclothes. She found wool ones that he had originally claimed were "itchy" while they were packing, but she had forced him to bring them anyway.

When she stepped into the cabin's main room, Percy was underneath a fur blanket next to the floor.

"George, how are you? Feeling well?" She passed to her adolescent son with concern, fingering his wet hair.

"What about you?" he sputtered, "I'm the one who should be asking you that!"

"More than anything, I'm scared that your father is going to get sick from this. I haven't felt this afraid for his life in..." she paused, her eyes darkening slightly at the thought of a multiple places in Paris where they had been threatened-the apartment of that strange old woman being the last of them.

"In many years," she finished.

She could hear Percy's teeth chattering from across the room from their place b the table.

"I've already got water in the kettle just finish making the tea. I'm going to see how Father is."

She knelt next to him and played with the damp hair on his forehead. When an idea popped into Marguerite's head, she knew it would be slightly uncomfortable for George, but this was the life of his loving father.

She got underneath the covers with her husband, and wrapped him in her arms. He sighed, feeling the difference of her actually being there.

George had blushed a little when he brought the tea, but then he had gone upstairs to Violet. Marguerite absently tapped tattoos onto the scars of his bare chest and back as she lay there in his sleeping form. Gradually, Percy had stopped shivering and subconsciously put his arms around her, like it was second nature. Eventually, due to the warmth of the fur, his body and the fire next to him, she grew drowsy and dozed with him.

She woke sometime in the darkness to blue eyes. Brilliant blue ones that were brightened by the blazing fire George had still kept up while they had rested.

"Oh, Percy!" she cried and lay her cheek against his.

"Margot, my sweet one," he whispered, his voice small and raspy, but it was still his, nonetheless. "You have always fascinated me. But today, from whatever I can remember, you were unbelievable."

"I would say that the most unbelievable thing I saw this morning was the Scarlet Pimpernel finally losing the patience of Lady Luck. She finally abandoned you."

"Ah," he chuckled, "Tis true. But she did not travel far, for_ you_ were the one to grasp onto that one hair of hers and tug with all your might. She did not abandon you."

"Thank goodness," she giggled against his neck and snuggled even closer, reveling in his nearness.

"Margot," he whispered against her now damp hair. She hummed in response and squeezed his shoulder.

"I love you. I loved you the moment I saw you. And somehow I love you even more now."

"Whoever loves, loves at first sight," she quoted. Shakespeare was one of her favorite playwrights when she was an actress in her youth.

"I always thought you hated me when you met me." He smiled against her forehead. She could feel he familiar turn of his lips as he made the small but meaningful action.

"When I _saw_ you I loved you." she answered slowly, "I never said anything about the moment you opened your mouth!" She covered her mouth to stifle the laugh, while Percy just hung back his head and chortled.

After it had grown quiet again, Marguerite amended, "But seriously Percy, I never hated you. Not even during that first year. How could anyone hate you?" She wrapped her arms around his neck and grinned, "Now that I think of it, I truly can't think of anyone who hates you."

"I can think of a couple hundred to a thousand people in France wh-"

"Okay, those people don't count!" She stopped him with her hand and laughed.

"It doesn't matter how many people love me, Margot, as long as you do."Marguerite closed her eyes in bliss as he kissed her eyes, nose and finally, granted her a satisfying kiss.

**That is where it ends, kids. I don't have enough time to really write a steamy scene, but you can sort of tell what might ensue. We'll talk about the "ifs" later. It's pretty late and I need to do dishes, and get ready for bed...so yeah. So goodnight! And please review! It makes me so excited! And to ladysaskia, I hoped this fulfilled your wishes!**


	12. Study Dates

**So because my story, "A Humble, ENGLISH (?) Wayside Flower" is on hiatus until the 25 Days are over, here is a short interlude Christmas one-shot in that world of a Pimpernel mascot. If you are confused on what this is about, go read it! Warning, they are in high school, so not so "innocent" as Percy and Marguerite are in the books/their own time period.**

Christmas season came with Pimpernel-shaped ornaments and flower-shaped stars to go on top of Christmas trees. The Thespian troupe, #666, videotaped an original one-act with the Scarlet Pimpernel "Saving Christmas" from the other Debby Downers such as Chau-Chau. They showed the video on the school's "Pimp Report" on the last day of school for the winter holiday. Eventually, it made its way to Dover's local news channel.

Percy Blakeney, the hot macho that he was, had to work overtime. His merch store was stocked full one day and then empty by the end of it. Not only did he have to design and create merch every day, he also had Varsity basketball practice….every day.

That meant he had to sacrifice, just like Spock did to save the Enterprise in _The Wrath of Khan, _and that something was his study dates with Marguerite for first semester finals. They had planned it months ago, and Percy was really looking forward to it.

It was hardly something Percy wanted to do, since "studying" wasn't really the purpose of the date. Since the invention of the study date, when was it _really_ the purpose to get close and personal with George Washington or 3.14blahblahblah(number that never ends)?

It's not like electron configurations would get their feelings hurt if he waited two minutes before the final to review? When did good grades even matter anyway? You don't need them to get into a dream college.

Pshh!

Grades.

What a joke.

So he acted like it was a joke when Marguerite brought it up the weekend before.

"You though I was serious about that?" He laughed nonchalantly.

"Umm," she reddened and looked away.

"Oh, Margot," he stopped her in the middle of the hallway. She was looking at the floor. Apparently she had been looking forward to it too. "Could you really imagine this face trying to study for a bunch of lame tests?

"I could imagine your face getting pretty lucky," Marguerite retorted and looked for his reaction.

Percy kept the stupid smile plastered on his face and asked, "Wait, why would my face be lucky?" He could hear her sigh in annoyance, even though he knew she had been hinting the heavy make out sessions they could have had.

He continued, "I'm pretty sure my face is already lucky. How can any girl resist _this_?" He gestured his hand over his many "ceps" and Marguerite's eyes followed. Her breath hitched as she swallowed. He smirked at her reaction, was almost a little satisfied too, when she cut him down.

"I can actually think of _one_ girl at the moment."

"Who is she?" He asked incredulously. "I must find her and persuade her otherwise!"

"How? You have a girlfriend," she said with a little annoyance.

"What girlfriend-" he stuttered until she slugged him.

"That's not funny, Percy. Seriously…what would you do?"

"Well," he started and was interrupted by the bell. "I would single her out."

Percy grabbed her wrists and pulled her to the alcove next to an empty dark classroom.

"Percy, I need to get to class-" she stumbled.

"The teachers love you. Just make an excuse that you got lost."

"Percy, I've been an exchange student for two years; I know my way around the school!" But she was laughing at him now and leaned against the wall next to the door, looking up at him.

"And that really is all I would have to do to make her fall for me." He whispered and leaned in close to her. Her lips looked as plush as a Winnie-the-Pooh stuffed animal, but with that image in his head, he started to laugh and released her wrists.

"See you later, Marguerite."

"You can't just do that!" she yelled after him. "You tease!"

He laughed his normal laugh as he walked away from her.

"Then it worked," he turned and walked backwards.

"If your purpose was making me want to skip class, it worked." He winked and started down the hall.

He heard the patter of her feet and looked down at her, "Do want to 'study date' right now?"

She gaped and slugged him and cried, "Percy Blakeney! You're such a jerk."


	13. Would it be the Death of You

**You guys are just freaking awesome! Thank you for all reviewing so much! And I'm sorry about not updating yesterday. I got home from school at 5:30 and immediately left for a church Christmas party and when I got home I immediately fell asleep. but I had written it during my study hall, so it's all good. Here is today's one-shot.**

The first thing Percy woke up to Christmas were little hands tugging at his hair and face.

"Margot?" He mumbled, not registering, and blinked blurry vision from his eyes.

"No, it's me Papa!" an exasperated boy exclaimed, "Get up! Get up! He came! He really came!"

"Georgie!" Margot sat up, "Of course he came. You didn't have to come and jump on us."

"It's fine." Percy laughed and sat up too. "Father Christmas doesn't come every day."

George, he could see more clearly now, was sitting in between him and Marguerite. His robes were loose around him and his blonde hair was tussled from sleep.

"Well, let's go! Let's go! We got to see what he brought! The day isn't getting any younger!" He fell on top of Percy and tried to push him off the bed.

"I'm moving! Okay, stop pushing me," he laughed and swiveled his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Be patient." Marguerite scolded, "The presents aren't going to disappear because we were waiting too long."

"You're right," he exclaimed and stood, hopping to the edge of the bed on her side. "The servants could steal them! I have to guard them!"

George sprinted to the door and shouted one last time, "Get out of bed you lazy people! We've got to get a move on!"

Percy turned over his shoulder as Marguerite gave him a pointed look.

"I had absolutely _nothing_ to do with that outburst," he defended, "but sink meh, m'dear! Could you imagine Frank stealing candy and presents from his stockings in the dead of night.?"

"Decked out in his sleeping garb and suddenly caught-in-the-act by little Georgie? T'would be a sight to see," she laughed.

Percy smiled at the image of his aging valet stealing something from them, and stood up from the bed.

"I think it would be acceptable for just today to wear my pajamas downstairs?"

"No," Marguerite exclaimed, "That would be the death of me!"

"Sink meh, would that disgrace you? Seeing your husband dressed in such a way?" He sashayed toward the door, twirling the fabric of his robe as he did so. Behind him he could hear Marguerite snort and chortle as she watched him.

"Oh Dieu! That _is_ the death of me!" She hid her face in the pillow and 'died'.

"Can you stop dying m'dear? Because we have a very impatient three year old waiting for us downstairs."

"Oh right," her head whipped up and she quickly stood, adjusting her dressing gown around her nightgown underneath. Percy watched silently with a small smile on his face.

"Percy," she said in an exasperated tone when she caught him, "Go appease poor Georgie...and could you stop looking at me like that!"

"I don't know, would it be the death of you?"

She hung her head back in a silent laugh and said, "I know what would be the death of you."

"What? Cookies? Chambertin?"

She slowly made her way toward him and tilted her head, the most spurring, clever simper he had ever seen her produce.

I'll..."she paused, her eyes bright and coy, "race you downstairs...?"

"Done!"

**Ahh! They are just so cute! Don't you think? Voice your thoughts in the review box below!**


	14. Disguises

**It's already been 2 weeks guys! And I've somehow ended up being ale to sneak on every so often late at night to finish what I don't at school! I am so thankful for all the reviews that I've gotten! You guys are so great at that. Here is a short drabble for another "Christmas Morning" type of thing requested by theEternalDaylightingRanger. Hope you like!**

One year, George Blakeney only got clothes for Christmas.

They weren't the type of "Oh gorgeous clothes! Look how fashionable they are! That cravat is pretty stylish" type of thing.

No.

It was the "garb of the peasantry" type of thing.

The little boy, 6 or 7,was initially confused at the gifts stuffed in his stocking until he looked a his parents. His father was slouched in his chair, though watching intently and his mother was glaring at him, something George recognized easily.

"What are _those_, Percy?' she gritted her teeth.

"Disguises." His father looked very proud as he started to explain.

"Now he can dress up as a scoundrel and save his little sister from the bad guys."

His mother kept glaring as she tried to find what words to say.

"You really are trying to raise him to be like you, aren't you?"

"What's so bad about me?"

"I'm not going to have another male in this house risk his life saving the world every day."

"I would never," Percy drawled and grinned at her. She sighed and turned to George.

"Go ahead and enjoy those disguises, but don't get any ideas."

"Wouldn't ever dream of it, Maman" George grinned, matching his father almost exactly.


	15. Hand-Cuffed Santa and His Rogue, Fat Elf

**Might be harder for me to update this week. It's the last week before break, so I am in the midst of finals, speeches, and projects. This is for LifeIndeed, who requested this, and I think it is downright genius and pretty hilarious. Please review!**

Percy sputtered out a gasp as he looked behind him to see Chauvelin gaining ground. He knocked his arm to the side of the aisle, tumbling displays and mall sisks full of candy canes, Santa plates, Santa hats, Santa dog toysand stuffed Santa dolls. They flew through the air, squeaked and landed right in the path of Chauvelin.

He couldn't lose his speed by turning to look behind at the damage to his measly little friend, but he could hear the pathetic little grunt and cry as he tripped and fell.

He glanced at the lower level of the building and saw his escape, not noticing that in the process, he was knocking over pregnant mothers, kicking the canes of the blind people, and making poor grandma's fall down the escalator.

He had no mind for them, though, he just needed to escape.

"You! Get back here! Meddling kid!"

"You'll never catch me….." Percy cried over his shoulder, "I'm the-wooahah!" He had almost fallen down the escalator full of oncoming traffic!

He skidded to a stop, for a second, and placed his hands on the escalator to steady. He knew he couldn't get through all those people. They had unknowingly created a barricade against him and were blocking him from entering or escaping. He scanned his surroundings for one more instant, aware of the heavy panting of Chauvelin coming from behind.

Chauvelin reached out to grab him, but missed by a few milliseconds, Percy was already onto his next move.

He was sliding down the rubber banister of the escalator! Now _that _was a huge violation of The Mall Codebook 18947903!

But Chauvelin looked down and lost hope. There was no way to run down the moving stairs. It was jam-packed full of people with their shopping bags, their kids, their kids in shopping bags…

So he stepped on and tried to push his way through, but everyone glared at him or his big stomach. Man, he needed to lose a few pounds!

By the time he got to the ground floor, he was too busy thinking about his weight that he had lost track of his prey!

He pulled his walkie-talkie out of his XXXXXXXL belt and called for back-up. Gabrielle should be somewhere around the lower level of the mall, but who really knew? She always disappeared to places no one could really figure out.

He ran as fast as he could, which really was a mere shuffle as his belly jiggled. He really needed to lay off on the cookies! A couple more years with a fake beard, he could be a great Santa Claus!

He glanced over at the mall's Santa Claus and frowned. He was not nearly as big as a Santa Claus should be. Where did they get that guy?

And why did he keep getting distracted?!

He needed to find that obnoxious teenager whose purpose in life was to torment him.

He didn't even know the kid's name, but that kid made it his point to steal his box of donuts when he wasn't looking, slip by and take his keys, releasing all the troublemakers from the mall "jail" and telling lame jokes to the other mall cops in his walkie talkie. Nothing was safe around him! And now, he had lay destruction in his ruthless wake, full of crying babies, whimpering old ladies and blind people struggling to find their way around!

He was going to pay! That is…if he caught him.

Chauvelin neared the Abercrombie and Aeropastale stores and twiddled his thumbs. He was going to be looked at for his weight. But these teeny-bopper stores seemed to be his type of hangout, so he lost himself in the clothes.

* * *

><p>"What do you want for Christmas?"<p>

"A lambie, a dolly, and…." The little girl tapped her finger on her chin. "aaaaaannnnnddddd…." Gosh she seemed to be dragging it out forever! Didn't she know how long of a line awaited him? There were like, 50 other kids!

"You know what," Percy said deeply, in his most Santa-esque voice. "How about you send me a letter, little Miss Polly-"

"My name is Sadie," she corrected and he sighed.

"Alright, _Sadie_. Write me a letter once you remember and I'll bring it to you."

"Alright, time for a picture!" The mother's huge smile showed pink gums mostly, and her camera was flashing into Santa's eyes like searchlights. He felt a bit faint and dizzy.

He was relieved to lose that annoying little pest.

But then, he saw who was next in line and wanted to call back for little Paisley again. Next in line was the most chubbiest ten-year old he had ever seen.

Didn't parents tell kids the truth at like, 8 or 9 now? And wasn't there a diet plan for things like this?

His knee was about to give way already and the kid just plopped down onto his leg, without any warning. Percy had to quickly adjust his beard so the other kids wouldn't see it was one of those cheap ones you wrap around your ears.

"Well," he managed to squeeze out, "What do you want for Christmas?"

"Could you," the boy said in a sweet, tender voice, "Could you take away my diabetes?"

Percy's mouth dropped open in surprise.

Well….

That was unsuspected.

* * *

><p>Chauvelin slumped back on a bench, sweating profusely in his black uniform. The search was awful and he was ready to give up, until he saw the Santa Claus stand in the middle of the first level. In his brain, he had always thought asking for something would make it happen, and maybe the magic of Santa Claus could help too!<p>

There were two kids left in line when he staggered to the stand. A few of the female elves helping out raised their eyebrows at him but allowed him to continue, as long as he paid the money. He was going to be eternally single anyway.

Any money to pay for the capture of that kid was worth it. He was a public nuisance and needed to be stopped!

The Santa froze when he saw Chauvelin, which was only to be expected, of course. Chauvelin smiled and sat on his lap, making Santa gasp sharply.

"Ermmm, what would you like for Christmas?"

His voice was surprisingly low. Man, he was a good Santa!

"I just want one thing you old man-"

"Who are you calling old?" Santa said with offense.

Chauvelin searched the man's face. It was remarkably unwrinkled and his eyebrows were blonde. He must be in his thirties or something.

"Sorry, Santa. I just need to catch this kid, and he evades me every time. It's embarrassing!"

Santa started to belly laugh and his cheeks were merry as he slapped his knee.

"You'll find him someday, Chambetin-"At that moment the Santa seemed to cut off his eyes widening in horror as he caught himself, and then he grinned stupidly at Chauvelin.

It was _him_!

Before he could do anything though, Santa chucked him off his knee and sprinted for the door. He looked back to see Chauvelin struggling to get back on his feet, before running again.

Percy really didn't know why Chauvelin hated him so much. The only time he actually exercised was when Percy would torment him out of good fun.

But he couldn't get caught.

So he kept the ridiculous Santa costume on and jogged to the cold parking lot. The sky was dark, but there were still a ton of kids who recognized him as they got into their cars with their parents.

"Where's your reindeer?" He heard a kid yell. Percy gave a pointed glance in the direction of the voice, because then, the children were shouting for a sleigh full of toys pulled by reindeer.

He couldn't get distracted, but he couldn't ruin children's dreams…that would be pretty awful.

A few yards away was Chauvelin and his yelling.

He was desperate, and he sure didn't care about little children's dreams.

He could only wait for his imminent capture.

"Santa Claus, you're going to have to come with me," the mall cop grinned.

"See," Percy smiled, though his face got itchy whenever he did that. It was the beard. "I always give the children their wishes!"

"And you made this one very _happy_," Chauvelin muttered as he hand-cuffed him.

"Good, that was my purpose all along," Percy laughed.

But then, the children started to understand what was happening.

"Why are you tying up Santa you mean fat man?"

Chauvelin sputtered and grew red-faced, "I…mean?..What-"

"Let him go! He's innocent. He's nice!"

"NO!" Chauvelin yelled. "HE IS _NOT_ NICE!"

Then, they heard the wails of the innocents.

Percy called out, "Help children! He's a fat, mean elf! He went rogue!"

"No," he heard them crying and wailing.

"Oh shut up," Chauvelin cried, exasperated.

But the mothers and their children would not stand for that injustice anymore! They rose up, unbuckled their booster seats and stampeded.

"Leave Santa Claus ALONE!"

Percy caught sight of the children he had been loathing to throw off his lap a bazillion times in the matter of a few hours, and felt a little bit proud of his day's doings. Perhaps befriending an army of children was to his benefit after all, even though it took his whole afternoon up.

If they had been just a little older, he was pretty sure that he could've done an epic crowd surf, but alas, most of his defenders were toddlers.

By the time Chauvelin was finally let alone by the nasty children and their Mommies, reminding him again, why he never wanted to get married and have kids, man in scarlet was gone.

Chauvelin glumly walked back inside the empty mall, to pick up the mess left there by his enemy.


	16. Conservative Presents

Violet grinned as she handed him the book. "That would be perfect," she smiled.

"Are you sure? I've never heard of this author."

"You asked me for my advice. You've got to trust me on this type of thing. Mother isn't young anymore. You're too old to sweep her off her feet, so she'll have to read about it."

"Gad! You inherited your mother's cutting remarks." Percy took the book though and fingered the binding. Violet shrugged and ran her finger along the row of novels to the other side of the shelf.

"I guess you wouldn't know what she is getting for me?"

"She's shopping with George right now. That's why we separated. And even if I did know what she is getting you, I wouldn't tell you either," her voice drifted over the next aisle as Percy read the first page of the book. Perhaps it was the fact that there was no adventure, since it was obviously written by a woman named Jane Austen; no doubt Margot would love that with her progressive ideas.

Perhaps she would like it-women were into that lovey-dovey stuff, right?

"I think we are done here, Miss Blakeney. Say, would you go for a luncheon? I doubt your mother could figure me out this fast."

He could see Violet through the books and she laughed. "After all these years, Mother still can't find what to get you for Christmas!" She stopped and faced him, through the bookcase, "Honestly though, I don't know if I could figure out what to give you."

"I want for naught, child. Sink meh, your father is the richest man in England!" He waved his eyeglass flippantly at her.

"Lud, I know! Men of all ages flock to me for the largest dowry in all of England!" Her drawl stopped his next remark with an inane laugh.

Violet gave an even more so frivolous laugh, and Percy echoed her, both then trying to outdo each other.

"SSHHHHHHH" An old, lean fellow hissed and glared.

"Sink meh, I think it is time we leave, Miss Blakeney! We have got our book, now let us buy it," he responded loudly. That incited another glare from the same man, causing Violet to giggle. Violet started to make loud comments on the quality of the furniture, of the book they were buying, of the lights….anything that would show her to be a posh aristo. Violet glanced up to see her father's reaction, and was satisfactorily met with a small smirk in response.

By the time the bell rang on their way out, nearly everyone in the bookshop were either glaring in their direction or praying that their children didn't turn out that way.

Violet held onto her father's arm, and broke out laughing at the same time as they traveled down New Burlington Street in central London, and window-shopped.

But when they neared their tailor's residence, Percy could not help himself; beautiful things were in his grasp! He stepped through the door and into a heated parlor. The walls were full of lace and boxes of finished clothes ready to be sent to their owners. At the moment, there was no one in the room.

"He must be checking on the sewing ladies in the back," Percy explained and drifted towards boxes of cravats and lacy shirts.

"Papa, you really should move on from lace. The style now is more…conservative than it was when we were younger." Violet fingered a plain linen strip of cloth.

"What is the point in wearing a demmed cravat if you can't express yourself or display your wealth?" Percy cried in offense.

"Isn't that a bit arrogant of you?"

Percy opened his mouth to speak, but abruptly closed it when he saw his Marguerite coming through the back room with George trailing. Her eyes went wide as she quickly hid the thing in her hand behind her back, but he had seen it! It was his present, and thank the heavens he had stopped her in time!

She was holding a series of plain, white linen cravats…with absolutely no lace.


	17. Christmas Shackles

**Sorry I didn't update yesterday! I caught up today though, and thanks for reviews. You guys are great. And to Marguerite, I'm pretty sure your request will be posted tomorrow.**

The mistress of the house did not lazily watch her servants as they decorated the front entrance with Christmas decorations. She assisted and directed each decoration of ivy, berries and fruit. That was what was expected of a lady of her status.

So it was a shock to her when her husband refused to leave his study. The valet could excuse him from the work all he wanted, but that didn't change the fact that Marguerite Blakeney knew what he was doing.

His master...her husband was dozing in his comfy chair. Everyone knew it. And everyone accepted it and moved on. Even his wife. Lady Blakeney had always thought that in marriage, each individual would change in response to their spouse. She did not realize that Sir Percy Blakeney, Baronet, was like a static character in a story.

He was forever indifferent towards her, lazy, sleepy and dull in most circumstances. Every time they were in public, he would laugh that same jarring laugh and supposedly gamble away half their fortune.

She wondered often how greatly she had changed since their marriage. She was no longer an actress in Paris, amidst a bloody revolution sweeping the nation. She was a good friend of the future king of England and was married.

Married.

When she was a lovesick adolescent stuck in a nunnery, she had always believed that marriage was freedom. That her true love would sweep her off to a world meant only for them.

As she planned the Christmas menu with the cook by herself, she knew that it had been a mistake.

Marriage had put her in chains, stuck in a lonely prison called Blakeney Manor.

Marguerite climbed an eight step ladder to the wooden ledges of the house. The grapes and berries were placed in a pattern along the room with the taste of an artist's touch. With brilliant fires blazing in every room, the whole house was filled with warmth and that general feeling of good-will.

She might as well try to make that prison a home without him.


	18. Hot Cocoa

**So enough of the angst! Percy isn't in this drabble, but Armand makes his first appearance in a little fluffy scene. I wanted to do a little bit more on this scene, but then it wouldn't be a drabble.**

'What's this?" Marguerite's voice shook as she clutched the old blanket more tightly against her in the corner of a forgotten alley.

"Cocoa, Margot. Careful," Armand stopped before handing the mug to her. "It's steaming hot."

"Good," she hungered after it, and smiled as feeling came back to her fingers when she clasped pale fingers around the mug.

"I'm sorry we couldn't afford anything else," Armand slid against the wall to the ground.

"Don't worry Papa, I have you." Marguerite's eyes were sunken, her cheeks hollow, and her mouth thin, but Armand decided to force a smile and kissed the crown of her head.


	19. The League Snowball Fight

**This is for Marguerite, who requested this type of one-shot! Hopefully, this will make you happy! And the characters in here are not mine, especially Worthsby! He belongs to my fellow fanfic writer Alpine Sheep, who happily complied to letting me use his character! Thanks so much, my friend! And to all you guys, check out her stories. They are perfect! Humor and adventure perfectly tied together in a beautiful, thrilling story.  
><strong>

Snow had piled on the ground. Frosty the Snowman had come and gone. And snow forts were built-for only one purpose...

The most epic snowball fight in the history of mankind.

Percy and Galveston had already hidden behind their 10 foot wall of snow, while the other team with Dewhurst and Foullkes could be seen making snowballs. Since Foullkes complained that Team Leader Percy Blakeney had chosen Tony initially, because he was too "clever' and that it wasn't "bloody fair."

And being the heroic and selfless person that he was, Percy gave up Dewhurst to appease the ill-matched opposing team.

Apparently, 1 Dewhurst + 1 Foullkes = 1 Percy Blakeney.

Percy didn't doubt it. Both were demmed good masterminds, but he still knew he was better. He looked behind him to Hastings, who was already working on his assignment.

"No. It needs to be wider...rounder. It has to protect a full-grown man!"

"I'll try Blakeney! I just miss Frosty-"

"Get your act together, man! We're in a war here, people! And Galveston! Remember the icicles!"

"Worthsby! Don't forget the fake explosives. Devinne! Get off your lazy bottom and get to work on the escape route!"

Everyone scrambled to get Percy's demands over with.

St. Just was taking watch and eventually cried out, "They are on the move!"

"Quickly, the snowman, Hastings!"

Percy cued Hastings, who then burst through the appointed wall, and was fully hidden behind the roundness of a large snowman on a sled.

"TALLY-HO!" They heard the battle cry and watched from behind the forts walls and then an "OOF!"

Percy peeked over the wall and gasped to see_ two_ snowmen on two different sleds.

"They are on to us! We need back-up!"

Then, the members of the League that Percy had accidentally forgotten the names of came forward and stormed "No Man's Land" to assist Hastings.

"Devinne, are you still working?"

"Yeah," an angsty grumble came from the opposite side of the forts' walls, but when but Percy turned to see his progress, the man was missing.

"Lud, Johnny! Where did you go?"

"The escape route, remember?"

"Of course I do! Just where is the escape route?"

"Blakeney! They've come out with too many men! We're dying out there!"

"For goodness sake, get them out of there!" He shouted and looked over the wall again. St. Just gave a sew mews call, which everyone turned to immediately, including the other team. They almost looked a little confused. So instead of advancing further to their enemy's fort, they retreated as well, believing there to be some sort of direction needed to be given them by their leaders.

"Good work Armand! They had the same signal as we do! It goes to show you that plagiarizing is bad!" Percy continued to chuckle as he checked on his masterful plans.

"Get the icicles on the battleground! We need to take initiative this time!"

"On it, Percy!" Galveston gathered an armful of sharply carved icicles and ran to the outside of the wall.

Percy looked up to Armand with a questioning look, "Is he doing it right?"

"Yeah, right next to our fort, right?"

"Correct. Is he being sneaky about it?"

"Oh is that what he's doing?" Armand laughed. "He looks like he is trying to attempt ballet."

"But the icicles are-"

"Yeah. They'll go through some major problems if they try to breach our walls.

"Good. I am going to try and find Devinne. Who knows if he dug a tunnel to the center of the earth by now?"

"Ow! There was ice in those ones!" Percy rushed to Armand at the sound of Galveston's cry, who gravely shook his head.

"Did they capture him?"

"They are in the midst of doing so. He surrendered pretty quickly."

Percy turned to look at his busy teammates, now down to 7

He approached Worthsby and crouched, "We'll need those really soon. Are they ready."

"I th-think so." The poor kid was shaking, whether from fear or the cold, Percy had no clue.

Hopefully, his friend could figure out how those things worked!

"We're going to use them in exactly 30 seconds, so finish it!"

Percy joined Armand at the lookout's post and viewed the mess they had already caused. The sleds and piles of dead snowmen were still there, and icicles, placed in rows like pointy fences a few feet from their fort and stuck into the walls as well. A couple were still on the ground, dropped, when they had taken Galveston hostage.

"Worthsby! I need the explosives...NOW!"

"I-I'm sorry. I dropped them."

Everyone else groaned at him and shook their heads.

"Where did you drop them?"

"D-down the escape hole."

"So Devinne has them?"

"Yeah," he held his head in his hands ashamedly.

"Ugh, Percy?" Armand called urgently, "It looks like Foullkes has explosives too, and I think-"

BOOM

Snow rained on top of Percy's team as the front side of their fort was destroyed.

"Percy," Worthsby groaned, "The explosives I made may have been not so fake after all."

"That's alright, we do have the escape route still."

"And we are going to need it! Look!"

Percy looked over his shoulder to see six members of the other team charging to their demolished snow fort.

"Evacuation in motion!" Percy called out and dragged Armand from where he was almost passed out underneath a ton of snow.

The last of the team members still loyal to Percy filed into the hole Devinne had dug for an escape route. The tunnel was very small, especially for a tall man like Percy Blakeney, but he could somewhat crawl a few metres before wondering where they were going.

"I can't move my arms!" One of the unknown League members cried. "I'm going to go insane! I'm claustrophobic!"

"Bartholemew! Get it together, we are trying to escape quietly!"

"My name is Barstow!"

"Oh," Percy grimaced, "Sorry about that. But still, _shut up_."

"I hear people in the tunnels!" Another shouted.

"Are you sure, Horton?"

"Umm, I'm Holte."

"Okay, I was just trying to put humor into this situation! I do it with Chambertin all the time."

"Seriously they are down here, I just felt a snowball on my butt. They are right be-OWWWWW! HELP!"

"Hertz! What happened?"

But Percy didn't hear anything but yelps, and because he was in the lead of everyone in the narrow, winding tunnel, he couldn't see anyone over Armand's crouched body.

"We need to go faster!" He ordered and moved as fast as he could with his knees drawn to his chest. He felt like a penguin waddling around on an ice glacier.

"I see sunlight! We must be getting near to the exit!" But he only heard three other men grumble in happiness.

"Where is Biskow? I thought he was-"

"He got stuck remember," Hastings replied and Percy's face grew grim.

"They probably have him now."

"Yeah, it's just us four now."

"I swear, we had another person on our team. Who was it? Macbeth?"

"Mackenzie?" Hastings corrected.

"Oh yes!" He snapped his fingers, "Mackenzie!"

"He was sort of buried by the blast of the snow fort."

"Gad! He didn't...um _die_, did he?"

There was an uncomfortable silence until Worthsby pathetically comforted, "He could be just sleeping under that snow. And after he wakes up, he will pop out of the snow, _like daisies_!"

"Well, we are going to pop out of the snow right now. We just have to climb up the wall he made. Look, Devinne even got a ladder and everything!"

"Yeah, he was pretty nice until he betrayed us."

"That was pretty sudden..." Percy felt some dread in his stomach as he climbed up the ladder Devinne had courteously left behind for them.

But it was too late, because just as Percy felt the pieces start to fit together, he was already visible to the outside the escape route, and Foullkes feet were before him. The escape route was in the middle of their enemies fort!

He looked up and smiled, "Sink meh, if I had no idea you could fight so dirty!"

"It was all Dewhurst."

"I should have known! Tony always had a dark side to him."

"Well, it's time you surrendered, Percy. We bested you."

"In some cases, I would surrender, but at the moment, it seems like I am invading your fort, what?"

"Excuse m-"

"Galveston! McDonald's! Bolts! We've come to rescue you!"

He jumped up and threw snow into his friends face. Although, Andrew only sputtered and lunged. Pepper snuff worked way better in these circumstances.

He got out of the way for the men behind him to climb out of the hole and soon, snowballs brought huge confusion and war inside the fort.

Percy saw the explosives that Devinne had taken from Worthsby and ran to them as St. Just covered him.

He tore the top and threw it against their huge wall, screaming, "TALLY-HO!"

It exploded as soon as it hit and Percy took the fighting to No Man's Land again, even though most of them were sharing the same fate as Mackenzie. He could hear Foullkes on his tail and felt the iciness of a crystallized snowball.

"OOF!" He tripped and fell on his face. He raised himself on his elbows but Andrew collided him into the ground.

"Surrender!" Percy heard Andrew faintly and felt as his face was smushed into the snow.

He turned his head and yelled, "NEVER!"

"Then you will suffer this torment for the rest of your life! And when it turns to spring, I will dig your face into the mud, and in the summer, you will eat ants, and then leaves in the Fall!"

But then Andrew slumped on the ground next to him, and Percy heard the blessed sound of a female. "Not if his wife has anything to do with it!"

"Haha! Andrew-you lost! I won!" Percy gave a little victory dance until Andrew sat up, still dazed from Marguerite's head-shot.

"That's not fair! She's not a member of your team!"

"I agree. She isn't. But she _is_ my secret weapon."

**I hope you guys like the League snowball fight! I got a lot of inspiration to do this one-shot from the fanfics called "League Sleepover" and "Nightmare on the Daydream." Remember to R&R!**


	20. Twas the Night Before Christmas

**This one goes to Alpine Sheep, who gave me the start of something that I had in my head! Enjoy!**

T'was the night before Christmas, and through the cells,

Not a creature was stirring, not even a guard yells

The orders for the guillotine were sent with care

In hopes that the blade would give the aristos a scare

The traitors were all locked up "safe" in their beds

With visions of the Pimpernel saving their heads.

Maman was a widow and I just a chap,

had just settled down for our one last nap.

When out in the main room there arose such a clatter,

I sprang to my cell doors to see what was the matter

I rattled the doors with a crash and gave the lock a hard bash.

The candlelight shined on a position down the corridor

but the bars kept me from seeing all the way forward

to a sight that gave hope to those in stalls,

a large man and eight other friends in all.

With the leader, so lively and swell,

I knew immediately it was the Pimpernel!

More enticing than the blade of Madame's fame

He laughed and shouted, calling his comrades by name,

"Now, Foullkes! Now, Denys! Now Hastings and Dewhurst!

On! Glynde, on! Galveston, on! St. Just and Bathurst!

To the top of this prison! Unlock all the doors!

Then dash away, dash away! Dash to the shore!"

The saviors like a hurricane swept to all

and unlocked each door, including my own stall!

I grabbed my shocked mother and stepped out,

to see each member return to their route.

And then we were stumbling with all the others

to the exit and out, but I had to seek another.

For when I had turned a different tunnel

I found him, my savior, my Pimpernel!

He was standing by himself in the hallway

dressed in a peddler's coat of drab blue and gray

with trousers threadbare and thin down to his barefeet

which was covered in greasy grime, dust and soot

The keys jingled in his hands in anticipation

of freeing poor souls to take them to his nation

His blue eyes twinkled! His laugh-how merry!

His stooped shoulders so real and visage so scary!

His mouth was drawn into an inane smile

and his day-old scruff went great with his hairstyle!

Some teeth were missing, his nose a bit red

and his breath in the cold air rose around his head.

He had a long face and under his disguise,

I could not help but see his incredible size.

That carefree laugh shook his whole frame

And I smiled at him, that man under an assumed name

With a wink of his eye and a sew mew cry

Soon gave me to know I was not going to die

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And turned to more cells, unlocking them with a smirk.

And when his work was finally done with,

he gave a nod to his comrades of myth

and sprang out the doors without getting caught.

Away they all escaped on board of his yacht

But I heard him exclaim, ere he sailed out of sight—

_"Is He in heaven? Or is he in hell?  
><em>

_That demmed, elusive Pimpernel!"_

**So I'm really sorry that I've gotten so behind on things. Who knew things like sickness, Christmas and getting distracted from things like Tom Hiddleston would keep me from updating? Oh right, *cough* I did. But seriously, I didn't pick to get sick this weekend. I hope you enjoy and be sure to leave me a review in the box below! **


	21. Follow and Pursue Me, That's Swell

**I'm really trying to catch up today! But tumblr isn't helping much! I'll (hopefully) update twice tomorrow, and then I believe I will be caught up! And I promise that this will be the last non-serious one-shot! Even before the last chapter, I was inspired to do this because how it so hilariously combines with this children's story, "The Ginger-Bread Man" **

Once upon a time, there were mean men named Marat and Danton, who lived in Paris near the river. Danton and Marat were blood-thirsty, so they decided to chop off aristos' heads. They created a machine called the guillotine, with a sharp blade to do their dirty work.

But unbeknownst to them, through creating the guillotine, they had created an adversary. He was full of pluck and courage, dashing bravery and incredible wit.

After the first few heads had been chopped off, their antagonist saved an aristo and somehow managed to get through Marat's grasp.

And as he ran away, a brief echo was heard in their ears, "Follow and Pursue me, that's swell! But you can't catch me, I'm the Scarlet Pimpernel!"

That shout caused Marat, who was a greasy man, to slip and fall on his butt in his bathtub.

On another day, Danton took a bribe from an Englishman who wanted to talk peace, but soon, their letters were published in the newspapers! At the end of the article, there was a note from the contributor.

It said: I've escaped Marat, and I can escape you to! Follow and Pursue me, that's swell! But you can't catch me, I'm the Scarlet Pimpernel!

That caused clumsy, fat Danton to fall into his own device and lose his own head!

The Scarlet Pimpernel continued to go on adventures and met a woman named Theresia Cabarrus. She swung her hips and said, "Hello" in a sultry French voice, "You're not so bad on the eyes..."

But the hero replied, "I've escaped evil men called Marat and Danton, and I will escape you too! Follow and Pursue me, that's swell! But you can't catch me, I'm the Scarlet Pimpernel!"

So Theresia snapped her fingers, "Oh pooh! I will have to go marry Tallien now."

So the Pimpernel continued to escape the grasp of his enemies in France including a man named Pierre Adet.

"I am Pierre-Adet! And I will kidnap Yvonne Dewhurst because I love revenge!"

"Wait, I thought...I thought you were called Martin-Roget?"

"That's a cover name for myself! That way, Yvonne doesn't know what hit her!"

"Well, you _did_ just tell me."

And at that Martin-Pierre-Roget-Adet realized his problem. "I am going to kill you though."

But the hero replied, "I've escaped that temptress Theresia Cabarrus, greasy Marat and fat Danton, and I will you escape you too! Follow and Pursue me, that's swell! But you can't catch me, I'm the Scarlet Pimpernel!"

And he escaped, leaving Martin-Pierre-Roget-Adet very shameful indeed.

One of the greatest adversaries was Robespierre, who was even called a prophet at one point! The Pimpernel looked at his enemy and laughed, "You have so many people who are going to betray you, I'll leave them to it! I'm too busy trying to save people!"

"But I will kill you for saving them!" Robespierre exclaimed.

"I've escaped Martin-Pierre-Roget-Adet, the temptress Theresia Cabarrus, fat Danton, and greasy Marat, and I will escape you too! Follow and Pursue me, that's swell! But you can't catch me, I'm the Scarlet Pimpernel!"

Robespierre grew so angry that he took a pistol, aimed and shot. Fortunately for the Scarlet Pimpernel, he was really bad at shooting and missed, hitting his own jaw! And that is why guns are dangerous!

The amazing hero had defeated every last enemy that come up against him. Until...Chauvelin. He was a fox, at least, that's what the sources say. He offered the Pimpernel a ride on his boat across the Channel, which the Pimpernel delightfully consented to.

"You know, you will be more comfortable at the front of the deck. It's a better view too."

"Really? I had no idea. Thank you Chambertin!" The Pimpernel laughed and moved up to the front edge. But then the fox did what everyone expected him to do, which was to push him over the side and kill him. The Pimpernel already knew this was going to happen and planned for it, his yacht coming at the perfect time and jumped right onto the deck of his boat!

"I've escaped the prophet Robespierre, Martin-Pierre-Roget-Adet, the temptress Theresia Cabarrus, fat Danton, and greasy Marat, and it seems I have escaped you too, Chauvelin the fox! Follow and Pursue me, that's swell! But you can't catch me, I'm the Scarlet Pimpernel!"


	22. Who is Your Mama?

**After a month, did you think you weren't going to get this? I did Marguerite's childhood; I was bound to do a little Percy in his crappy Christmas years with his mother and father. **

"Mama, look at this one!" the little boy proudly picked up his cut-out cookie, the dough then starting to droop to the table.

"It rather reminds me of a bunny, don't you?" His mother said a bit dazedly as she looked back at her needlepoint.

He frowned as he looked at the snowflake, and sighed. "I guess. I thought it was more like a-"

"Stop bothering your mother, Percy. She has to focus."

"Sorry sir, but she told me to show her my work," Percy responded, turning back to the table on his high stool.

"Is that fine?" Papa asked with worry and attentiveness. Mama nodded continually, almost like she was shaking. They sat in silence for a few more minutes; Mama continuing her needlepoint, Papa dozing and Percy cutting out cookies.

Percy enjoyed himself as much as he could with the cutters. When all the dough was gone, he looked at both of his parents, who were asleep in their respective chairs, but he continued to play with the metal cut-outs. He had gotten them from his German teacher, Herr Bauer, as a birthday present earlier in the month. The gingerbread man and woman would run away from his hand, which chased them back and forth the table, over and over again, until the woman tripped and the man had to save her. It happened over and over again, and eventually, he grew pretty bored of the game.

He hopped off of the stool with a thud and silently padded his way to Mama's side. The pattern had fallen on her lap. He picked it up and frowned. The thread was not made into a beautiful pattern like he had seen before. No, the thread was mangled and displayed like an angry child. It was a random blob of confusion, and looking at it, Percy felt a little sad. So he took the needle and started to undo the knots and loose stitches.

Sometime later, when he was almost done, he heard sniffles from behind him. He turned to his mother, who was crying quietly.

Percy looked down at his destruction of her work and reddened, "I-I'm sorry, Mama. I don't know why I took it all out."

She looked down at him with tears in her eyes and frowned, "Who is your Mama, little boy?"


	23. The Christmas Gala

**Bah! It's almost over! It's sad and a bit relieving, but I love your reviews, guys, so thanks to Alpine Sheep who sent me an onslaught of reviews for me today. Enjoy!**

Just like past successful festivals in the Fall, Blakeney Manor hosted it's first Christmas Gala for their tenants and villages in the Richmond countryside. The very much loved and admired family of London society where the benefactors chiefly participated and executed the dancing, events, and activities all afternoon.

The gala was held a few days before Christmas on the bank of the icy river. There were numerous tents and fires, relieving the commoners from freezing out in the cold air, where the wind somehow managed to pierce through layers upon layers of clothing and get through to the skin, where it made one's very own bones start to quake and shiver.

Supper had been spooned out to everyone by the Blakeney family themselves, soup so hot that it could reach into their souls and warm them. Coffee and cocoa were served in another tent, and were the two main functions, although the dancing of folk songs between the young girls and boys became popular as they consistently warmed themselves.

The hosts were generous and abundant in gift-giving, Sir Percy granting a food basket to each family in his village. Lady Blakeney kindly tended to little ones with no connections or support and gifted them from toys, while her own two children stood behind, watching.

Violet, nearing her adolescent stage, and was still growing out of her innocent chubby cheeks into her soon to be tall height and woman-like features. George was already a young man, on vacation after another term at Harrow School, and a near exact image of his father, excepting the wavier hair of his mother. They would watch quietly and smile, learning from their parents the future responsibilities they would have in store.

"So what do you think of this?" George once turned to her.

"Giving up our presents this year? I don't really know," Violet responded. Her Christmas dress from last year would _still_ fit her this year, and dolls seemed to outgrow her as each year passed.

"It's hard," George responded and stuck his hands up the inside of his sleeve of his wool coat and continued, "I was expecting something big this year, especially when they said the surprise was for both of us."

"I thought we were getting puppies, not sacrificing our gifts," Violet admitted and tightened the scarf around her neck. George smiled and nodded.

"That would have been plausible. But Papa and Maman are the opposite of that, eh?"

"Yeah," she giggled, "They do have a lot of unconventional ideas."

George wrapped his arm around her shoulder and sighed, "This reminds me of how much I'm going to miss you next term. You're a darling."

"I know," she said sarcastically, "Romeo comes to my window at night and cries-"

"Lady," George knelt and swept off his hat, holding it to his heart, "by yonder blessed moon I vow, that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops -"

"Oh stop it," she laughed, "since when did you read Shakespeare?"

"Harrow. It changed my life forever,"

"Ha! I don't see anything different about you. You haven't even grown an inch! Lud, I might outgrow you while your gone!"

"I doubt you could grow half a foot in that amount of time."

"Watch m-"

"Excuse me!" they both turned to see a little girl that barely reached George's waist. Her dress and coat was made of plain but sturdy material, and her face a pale color.

"Excuse me," she repeated more quietly and reserved, "Mama said to give this to you, my lady. A present to Sir Percy's daughter.

She looked to the ground as she handed over a pair of scarlet mittens. Little flowers were meticulously designed along the back of it.

"These are beautiful! How kind of your mother! Thank you for giving me these." Violet smiled and examined the gift when the child wandered off, some pink growing in her cheeks.

"How kind and thoughtful! especially with this winter; my fingers could nearly freeze off without these," she said to her brother.

"I bet you won't forget that gift," he pointed out.

"No," she decided and pulled the mittens over her other layers. "I think I will commemorate this always."

George glanced over at his parents, who were still serving out soup and replied, "I think that is what Papa and Maman meant to do with this event."


	24. I'll Be Home For Christmas

**This is a one-shot that has been in my head since the beginning! Angst Angst Angst! Because Bing Crosby and Michael Buble are pretty awesome, here is my first songfic, "I'll Be Home For Christmas." And yes, I know that in the 1790s there was no Christmas tree tradition in England-you'll have to forgive me for the lyrics.  
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Lady Blakeney was a jewel at the Christmas Eve Ball in the winter of 1793; a golden angel parading through the crowd in bejeweled in expensive pearls and lace. She flirted, danced and exercised her famous wit without fault or stop. What London society failed to see was her melancholy smile that always accompanied a question pertaining to her husband, clearly absent for the past two months from social gatherings. How odd, they thought, that their favorite fop would miss out on such an important and festive occasion! They quite missed their popular dandy, what?

She would answer to their persistent questions, "Lud, it _is_ my business to know my husband's whereabouts, isn't it? He's most likely touring Europe, or hunting in Scotland. The longer the better."

And the recipient would laugh and kiss her hand or cheek, congratulating her on the successful marriage.

Marguerite would keep her charade and finish with, "You can't be too sure about that, it's only been two years! He might want me to come with him next time."

And then, she would glide away on the arm of a male admirer to the dance floor. She continued that dizzying routine for hours and hours, though she had been accustomed to that lifestyle for years now. When suddenly, the dream was over and her hand was kissed multiple times in farewell to Barons, Vicomtes, Lords, gentlemen, and even a prince.

She was wrapped in a beautiful warm cloak of blue velvet lined with faux fur before receding down the terrace steps to her awaiting coach. She took the hand of her driver and settled into the plush seats inside. Once they started, she looked out the window, not minding the winter air biting at her flushed cheeks and let a single tear fall from her blue eyes where it traveled down the shape of her nose and stopped. She sniffed, finally wiped it off and closed the window and curtains, turning the inside of the coach pitch-black.

Even during their first year of marriage, Percy would drive in the worst of weather, through snow or rain. They would silently take in the familiar roads and landmarks as they traveled to and fro London parties. But now, he was gone, too busy to spare the few days it took to come back home to her.

The mental and physical exertion of the night's activities led her to a light doze until the coach stopped abruptly and the door opened. She shook sleep from her eyes and took the hand of Percy's valet as she stepped out.

"Thank you, Frank," she replied wearily and was about to proceed to the front door of Blakeney Manor, when he pulled out a sealed paper.

"A note from the Master," he bowed and handed it to her. Lady Blakeney smiled at him in understanding and clung to it as she took a different route into the house. She found herself wandering the gardens again, before finally stopping at the front of the side of the terrace steps. She gave a vehement sigh, for one she could rarely describe why. The only light in the house was hers, as Percy's room was kept dark and unused in his absence.

She sat on the steps of the terrace and leaned against the banister before finally taking a look at her beloved's note. Before breaking the seal, she kissed it reverently, imagining Percy heating the wax and pressing his signet ring into the hot red liquid. She imagined him sitting down to write to her in some dirty hole somewhere in France.

She looked at the elaborate, large handwriting of her husband and felt her heart leap. Anything denoting her husband gave her a moment of happiness. She had seen him so very long ago, she would have given anything to see just a glimpse of him, just for a minute or two, and then, she believed she could make it through anything.

So she read the first line. It gave her a burst of joy for a moment, until she realized he was lying.

**I'll be home for Christmas. You can count on me.**

Marguerite shook her head covered her eyes frantically. Percy would have come by now, he would have come and found her on these steps by now. He-

He was in France, planning something huge. The few, measly letters she did get from him once in awhile never mentioned that, but she could read through the lines. He would never have left her alone for the holidays if it had not been important; she just wished she was _more_ important.

Marguerite felt her teeth start to chatter and stood, stepping up to the terrace slowly, forcing herself to read the rest of his message

**Please have snow and mistletoe, and presents by the tree.**

She brushed the powdery snow off of the banister and felt the skirts of her dress and cloak glide along the floor, dragging snow with. She wondered if Percy was cold where he was, if he was staying up until all hours, scheming and restless. If he had food in his stomach, a comfortable bed. Or if he was rescuing some helpless child at this moment, if he was about to lose his life to her country. And there was nothing she could do to stop it, there was nothing she could do to make his Christmas an actual Christmas. That she could not enfold him in her arms and kiss his tired eyes, or hold his soft hands.

Yet he wanted her to go on without him. How could she?

**Christmas Eve will find me where the love-light beams.**

And that is where she lost hope of his return, where he had lost _his_ hope of returning to her.

She felt the sting of flowing tears threaten and ran a hand over her eyes, stumbling to the doors of her home. It was dark and cold when she walked in. Empty.

Empty of spirit and love. Of Percy Blakeney. Perhaps Christmas Eve would find him, but she knew she had lost it, even with the party that night and the decorations around the house. It wasn't the same without her husband. For the moment, she pitied both of them. They both had to dream of some future that was better for their marriage, so they could be together, always.

Marguerite continued through the house, up the stairs, down a hallway and waving away Louise at the entrance of her suite of rooms where her bed lay glowing in the moonlight. For a moment, she saw the outline of his figure, sitting on the bed, waiting. He was wearing travel clothes, even his cloak was still on; he must have traveled all night to get there in time, but he had made it. His eyes were alert and stirring, and she blinked, barely believing her eyes. The vision vanished, his presence gone as soon as it came.

The real tears came as she slumped against the side of her bed and tried to read the last sentence of his disappointing letter.

**I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.**


End file.
